


Across the Universe

by hollycomb



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Love Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu searches for the right moment to break the news to Chekov that he'll be away for a year on an undercover mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Sulu wakes up around four in the afternoon and it's still raining. They're on Beauxton for a three day shore leave, a forested planet not far from the space station where the Enterprise is currently docked. Sulu rubs his face and pads across the chilly room in his underwear, wishing they'd rented a place with a replicator, but that's a convenience that's hard to come by on a planet as small and wild as this one. He'd have to go down to the lobby and use the hotel's replicator to get a cup of coffee, or ring the desk and ask someone to bring one up, but he doesn't want to do either, because Chekov is still sleeping. Sulu sits in a chair by the window that looks out on the surrounding forest, which is wet and already beginning to grow dark. He tips his head against the windowsill and watches Chekov's reflection in the glass, wishing he didn't feel so raw and hopeless. He hasn't told Chekov yet. He didn't want to spoil this time together. Chekov is relaxed and happy, but Sulu can't enjoy himself, knowing that in two weeks he'll be sent to the farthest reaches of the Andorian galaxy on a mission that will require him not to break cover for year. Not breaking cover includes not beaming to the Enterprise for even a few stolen moments. It includes not communicating with friends via PADD. Everything.   
  
This was the reason he didn't want to get involved with anyone, let alone Chekov. He didn't plan on being a monk for the full five year mission, but he'd wanted to restrict his recreational sex to strangers met on shore leave, and he certainly didn't want anything more serious than that. It had been such a relief to find a good friend on board in Chekov, and their friendship quickly meant a lot to Sulu, who'd had a pretty lonely experience at the Academy, almost all of his energy poured into his classwork and training. He and Chekov were inseparable within the first six months of the mission, always sitting together at meals and spending time with each other after shifts, going over the events of the day and winding down by watching movies or playing Chekov's large collection of virtual reality games. Sulu got off on the idea that Chekov sort of looked up to him, because he treated Sulu with a worshipful respect and seemed unwilling to experience anything on board the ship without Sulu at his side. When Sulu finally figured out that Chekov had feelings for him he hoped it would pass, but it didn't. Chekov would come up with little excuses to touch him, his face going bright red every time. He would lose track of what he was saying during conversations, his eyes glazing over as he stared into Sulu's as if he was mesmerized. When he started pretending to fall asleep in Sulu's bed during movie watching sessions Sulu decided they needed to have a conversation about what was happening, just to make sure that he wasn't somehow giving Chekov the wrong idea. Instead, he chickened out and let Chekov sleep in his bed, then let him squirm up against him during the middle of the night, then let him slip a hand under Sulu's shirt and stroke his side with his thumb. Sulu kept waiting for a reaction other than excitement and relief, but the only other reaction that came was a physical one: he rolled Chekov onto his back, flattened him to the mattress, and kissed him until they were yanking each other's clothes off.   
  
They never had a conversation about their relationship, and for the most part they've technically remained friends, though it's a well-known fact that they sleep together. Chekov follows Sulu to his room after their shift, they eat from the replicator, read or show each other videos on their PADDs, then cuddle into each other's arms, sometimes not even for sex, just for comfort. Sulu has come to need Chekov so much; whenever one of them is sent on an away mission Sulu can't sleep, wanting Chekov's body curved against his. He doesn't even like to shower without him there, their limbs bumping together as they sleepily pass each other the shampoo. He hates that he's succumbed to this, because it's this kind of weakness that destroyed his mother. Her whole identity was so wrapped up in loving Sulu's father, and she was just a shell after he died. Sulu always swore he wouldn't be the same way, and he tries to keep Chekov at a distance, but it's hard. Chekov has ways of burrowing in closer no matter how persistently Sulu retreats, and if Sulu is honest with himself, he's usually not all that persistent.   
  
"Hikaru?" Chekov mumbles, rolling over and searching the bed for Sulu. He's always like this when he wakes up, a little disoriented and wanting Sulu close.   
  
"I'm here," Sulu says, crossing the room again. Chekov rolls onto his back and moans, lifting his arms and pulling Sulu back down into bed. Sulu settles on top of Chekov, his face hidden against the heat of Chekov's neck while Chekov strokes his fingers down Sulu's back, something that would lull him back to sleep under normal circumstances, but Sulu hasn't been able to sleep very easily since he got the news about his upcoming assignment.   
  
"Your heart's pounding," Chekov says. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Nothing," Sulu says. "I had coffee."   
  
"You did? Where did you get it? Is there any more?"   
  
"No, I just had the porter bring a cup up. Sorry, I didn't think you'd want any."   
  
"Your breath doesn't smell like coffee."   
  
"I brushed my teeth."   
  
"Doesn't smell like toothpaste, either," Chekov says. He scoots out from under Sulu and rolls onto his side. "Hikaru, what's the matter?"   
  
"Nothing," Hikaru says, forcing a laugh. He lies on his side and stares at Chekov, willing himself not to be so hopelessly attached to this feeling, but he can't help it. This is where he's happiest, lying in bed with Chekov, their legs tangled together, Chekov's eyes soft and sleepy.   
  
"Are you sure?" Chekov asks, touching Hikaru's face. Lately, everything that Chekov does that feels good just gets added to a long list of things that Sulu will have to live without for a year: the heat of Chekov's palm against his cheek, that look of sweet concern on his face.   
  
"I'm fine, I promise," Sulu says. He hates to lie to Chekov, but he's waiting for the right moment to tell him, and this isn't it. He doesn't want to spoil this, the kind of moment he'll live off of while he's gone, until the warmth of the memory is so dim that it brings him more pain than comfort.   
  
"You seem tense," Chekov says. "Let me rub your back, then maybe we can go for a walk."   
  
"It's raining," Sulu says, rolling onto his stomach.   
  
"I don't mind walking in the rain," Chekov says. He straddles Sulu's back, and Sulu adds another item to the list of things he can't imagine living without: the feeling of Chekov's weight pressing him down to the mattress, his thighs tight around Sulu's sides, and then the slow progress of Chekov's hands flattening over his muscles, all the way up to the back of Sulu's neck, where he rubs out the little coils of Sulu's tension like a professional. Sulu's eyes burn when he thinks of returning to his bed with a sore back and lying there alone, dreaming of Chekov's hands. He can't believe how weak happiness has made him.   
  
"You're so good at this," he says, moaning as Chekov rubs his shoulder blades. They both spend way too much time sitting in chairs, and they always rub each other's backs at the end of a long shift. It's the purest sort of bliss, shrinking away from the world when the day is over to recuperate with someone who takes such good care of him.   
  
"God, Hikaru, you're pretty tight for a guy who is on vacation," Chekov says, pressing a kiss between Sulu's shoulder blades.   
  
"Maybe I need special attention," Sulu says, blushing. It's the only way he can ask for his guiltiest pleasure, by using those code words. Chekov laughs a little and pulls Sulu's underwear down, helping him squirm out of them.   
  
"Okay, but you're coming for a walk with me afterward," Chekov says. He gives Sulu's ass a slap. "You bad boy."   
  
Sulu laughs as Chekov kisses his way down his spine. He likes it when Chekov talks like this in bed, though all he ever knows to do is laugh or groan in response.   
  
"Such a bad boy, Hikaru," Chekov says, making Sulu shudder with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. "You like this so much, don't you?" Chekov asks, reaching up to push a finger into Sulu's mouth. Sulu's sucks on it greedily, moaning in answer to Chekov's question. Chekov laughs and removes his finger, bringing it down to the cleft of Sulu's ass. Sulu gasps a little, spreading his legs for Chekov's teasing touch. When Chekov licks down lower and lower, spreading Sulu wide for his tongue, Sulu's worries burn up in the heat of his humiliating need for this, and when Chekov licks into him he moans, trying to bury the force of it into the pillow and hoping that the people in the neighboring bungalows aren't Starfleet officers on shore leave.   
  
"Is that good, Hikaru?" Chekov asks, the heat of his breath against Sulu's wet hole making Sulu groan again. "Mmm, you're so bad, such a dirty boy, I know how much you like this." He really dives in after that, Sulu's whole body pulsing with hot flushes as Chekov fucks him with his tongue. Sulu's groans shift from powerful growls to weak little protests as he ruts against the mattress, his cock so full it aches. He's going to come, but suddenly Chekov is just too far away, Sulu needs to be on him, in him, so he shifts up onto his knees and turns over. Chekov gets the idea, grinning as he slides down onto Sulu's cock, still wet and open from the last time they fucked. He sighs with what sounds like relief as Sulu fills him up, and it almost makes Sulu want to sob, the look of blissed-out gratitude on Chekov's face as he reaches back to brace himself on Sulu's bent knees.  
  
" _Mmm_ , Hikaru," Chekov moans as he bounces on Sulu's cock, doing all the work while Sulu stares up at him in awe, his hips twitching desperately as Chekov slams down onto him, their skin slapping together. For a moment Sulu is filled with an unbearable sense of completeness, as if Chekov is no longer a separate person, or never was. He sobs when he comes, the feeling burning out with his orgasm. Chekov jerks himself onto Sulu's chest, panting when he comes, heartbreakingly beautiful.   
  
"Fuck," Chekov says, still recovering, bracing his hands on Sulu's shoulders and smiling down at him. "I always come so hard when I can see your face, the way you get."   
  
In the moment it seems like the most innocent thing anyone has ever said to him, and Sulu whines helplessly when Chekov pushes off of him, their bodies disconnecting.   
  
"Why are you so good to me?" Sulu asks when they're lying on the mattress, facing each other, Chekov's hands tucked under his chin.   
  
"Because I love you," Chekov says. He smiles self-consciously, his shoulders inching up closer to his jaw. Sulu just stares at him, a black hole opening in his chest. Chekov loves him. This separation is going to destroy them both. He's seen what losing a love like this does to a person. When he comes back, Chekov will be changed. He'll be harder, more guarded. Sulu watches the softness in Chekov's eyes fade to disappointment, feeling as if he's looking into the future, and then he realizes that he hasn't responded.   
  
"I'm gonna go brush my teeth," Chekov says, climbing over Sulu, who lies there dumbstruck, wondering if it's too late to tell Chekov that he loves him, too. He's known for a long time now that he does, but it never seemed necessary, or even appropriate, to say it out loud. He turns onto his side and watches Chekov through the open bathroom door. He's standing naked at the sink and staring into the mirror as he brushes his teeth. He looks heartbroken, but wouldn't Sulu only shatter his heart completely if he told him the truth and then abandoned him? Sulu wishes he could take a picture of Chekov just the way he is, his skin flushed from sex, his curls messy, his eyes big and worried, unfocused. The ache in him grows until he can't hold the words in.   
  
"I love you," Sulu whispers when Chekov turns on the water to rinse off his toothbrush. Chekov doesn't hear him, just shuts the door to have a piss.   
  
They get dressed and go for a walk, though the rain is still coming down hard and the forest around the bungalow they've rented at the top of one of Beauxton's famous mammoth trees has grown dark. There are lights strung along the resort's property, spaced widely enough not to feel intrusive, and Chekov follows the trail they make through the woods, the hood on his sweatshirt pulled over his head to protect him from the rain. Sulu walks behind him, miserable and drenched, worried that Chekov thinks he doesn't love him and worried about what would happen if he knew that Sulu does. It was Chekov's idea to spend their shore leave on this planet, because of its diverse and impressive vegetation. He thought Sulu would like it, the chance to wander around and collect specimens. Sulu isn't in the mood to do anything so constructive, but he's pretended to be happy with this vacation destination, because he was touched when Chekov suggested it.   
  
"Look," Chekov says, venturing off the trail to point at a thick vine growing up the trunk of one of the forest's massive trees. "Isn't that star trumpet vine, like the one you've got in the greenhouse?"   
  
"It's Romulan nightshade," Sulu says, coming close to examine one of the flowers. "Commonly confused with star trumpet. Be careful, it's poisonous."   
  
"I wasn't going to eat it," Chekov says irritably, heading further into the forest, away from the path.   
  
"Where are you going?" Sulu asks. "Aren't you hungry? We should head back and get some dinner." He wants nothing more than to get out of his soaked clothes and into a hot bath with Chekov, to hold him against his chest and tell him, without actually telling him, that he loves him so much it's killing him.   
  
"Why did we even come here if we're just going to lie around the room the whole time?" Chekov says. "We should explore the planet a little, yes?"   
  
"Maybe during the day," Sulu says. "C'mon, you know it's not safe to wander around in the dark at night when you don't know where you're going."   
  
"Who says I don't know where I'm going?"   
  
"I do," Sulu says, catching up to him. He grabs Chekov's arm and pushes him against the damp trunk of a tree, pinning him there. Chekov scowls at him, then sighs, letting Sulu hold him in place. His wet curls are matted to his forehead, darkened by the rainwater and making his fair skin look even paler than usual.   
  
"Don't run away from me," Sulu says softly.   
  
"That's not what I was doing," Chekov says.   
  
"It's too dark to see where you're going, what if you stepped into a sink hole? You know I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. Don't you know that?"   
  
It's the best he can do. If he tells Chekov he loves him just before he leaves, it will only seem like a dramatic gesture intended to keep him faithful. Sulu's grip on Chekov's sweatshirt tightens when he thinks about the fact that he has no business asking Chekov to wait for him, and that Chekov probably won't. Chekov is lovable and affectionate; he'll find someone else who'll be happy to keep him warm at night.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov says, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't run away from me, either."   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
"Something is going on. Don't you think I know you well enough to see it? Do you think I could sleep in your bed every night and not know when something is wrong?"   
  
"Nothing's wrong." Sulu isn't even sure why he's lying now, except that he doesn't want to make his inevitable departure real by telling Chekov about it. He wants to keep pretending. "I just – it's this rain."   
  
Chekov knows he's lying, but he doesn't press. He puts his arms around Sulu's shoulders and pulls him close. Sulu holds him against the tree, breathing in the strong, damp scent of its trunk. He feels as if they could disappear into it, turning to wood like characters in a fairy tale. Chekov sighs against Sulu's neck and squeezes him closer, trembling in his arms.   
  
"You're cold," Sulu says. "We should go back."   
  
"I don't want to go back yet," Chekov says, as if he knows that something will change forever once they leave the forest. Sulu feels the same way, and he lingers, pushing his face inside the wet hood of Chekov's sweatshirt to kiss his cheeks, the bridge of his nose.   
  
"Let me take you back and warm you up," Sulu says. He thinks of Chekov's cool, pale skin growing rosy under hot bathwater, his wet curls cold on Sulu's shoulder, and adds that to the list.   
  
"Kiss me first," Chekov says, and Sulu does, the heat of Chekov's mouth making his body shudder gladly. Chekov kisses him with shaking lips, tasting like toothpaste, sighing when Sulu moves down to kiss his neck.   
  
"You've made me stupider, you know," Chekov said to Sulu once, about three months after they'd started sleeping together. "All I think about anymore is the things you'll do to me when we're alone."   
  
"Well, I'm sorry," Sulu had said, not sure how to take this. Chekov was smiling, but maybe he was complaining, telling Sulu that their relationship was taking up too much of his time and energy.   
  
"Don't be sorry," Chekov said, laughing. He stood up and bent down to whisper in Sulu's ear: "I like how I am when I'm with you."   
  
They're out of breath by the time they've climbed back up to the canopy, and as they're crossing the rope bridge that leads to their bungalow, Sulu sees Kirk headed their way. He curses under his breath; he'd forgotten that the Captain was taking his shore leave here, too. Sulu and Kirk get along well under most circumstances, but Kirk can be a little needy and obnoxious outside of work, especially when all Sulu wants is to curl up with Chekov and forget about everything else.   
  
"Hey guys!" Kirk says. He's not wearing a jacket or carrying an umbrella, seemingly oblivious to the rain. "Where are you headed?"   
  
"Back to our room," Sulu says. He still blushes whenever he has to own up to the fact that he and Chekov share a bed. He knows that people on board joke about the fact that they're pilot and navigator in more than one sense. Some of the other officers think that Chekov leads Sulu around by his balls.   
  
"I was just about to go get some dinner in the neighboring tree," Kirk says, laughing at the idea. "This place is a trip, right? You guys should come eat with me."   
  
"Okay," Chekov says before Sulu can make an excuse. "We'll meet you there in ten minutes, yeah?"   
  
"Sure thing," Kirk says, patting Chekov's shoulder before walking off. Sulu hates himself for never wanting anyone else to touch Chekov, not even as innocently as Kirk does, and as they walk back to the room he allows himself to imagine Chekov turning to Kirk for companionship while Sulu is away. They're very fond of each other, and Sulu has always wanted to think of their relationship as brotherly, but it could easily develop into something else. Kirk is a sex maniac and Chekov is so eager to please him.   
  
"What's wrong?" Chekov asks as Sulu whips his wet clothes to the floor, thinking of Chekov in Kirk's lap, kissing him timidly, in awe.   
  
"Nothing," Sulu says. "I just. Why did you have to agree to dinner with fucking Kirk? What is with you and him? You're so impressed by him. It's embarrassing."   
  
Chekov stares, still in his wet clothes and dripping onto the floor, looking at Sulu like he's lost his mind, which maybe he has. Sulu curses himself and shakes his head.   
  
"Sorry," he mutters. "I just wanted to come back here with you, take a bath, relax. Now we have this fucking dinner date – I'm sorry."   
  
"Hikaru."   
  
"And he gets under my skin, the way he's so – I don't know, Jim's just so fucking cheerful, to the point of being smug – shit, never mind, I'm gonna get in the shower."   
  
Sulu goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, making the water hot enough to steam. He's shivering, his heart pounding, and he keeps catching himself thinking that he's not just going away for a year but dying, that he won't exist elsewhere and won't come back to anything resembling a life. He puts his hands against the wall of the shower and lets the water beat against his skin until red patches bloom across it. The shower curtain rings click against the bar and he turns to see Chekov climbing in behind him. Chekov won't meet his eyes, but he lets Sulu pull him into his arms and hold him, sighing against his cold curls.   
  
"Sorry," Sulu says again.   
  
"Hikaru – are you mad at me?"   
  
"No, God no, I'm just being an idiot, we probably would have gone over there for dinner and ended up eating with Jim anyway."   
  
"I don't mean about that. I mean about something else."   
  
"Of course not. Hey." Sulu lifts Chekov's chin and stares down at him, watching the color return to his pale cheeks as steam fills the air around them. It would be a good time to tell Chekov he loves him, and Sulu wants to, he wants to watch Chekov's worried eyes fill up with relief, but he can't do it. He should have done it much sooner, before he knew about this mission, months ago. Now it's too late.   
  
"Everything's fine," Sulu says. "I could never be mad at you. Look at you."   
  
Chekov smiles. He's a little bit vain about how adorable he is, and he likes to hear Sulu say so. Sulu laughs and kisses him, holding him so close that it feels like every inch of his skin is pressed to every inch of Chekov's. He'll die without this, but he pushes that knowledge away.   
  
"Should I clean you up now?" Sulu whispers, stroking his hand down Chekov's back until it's resting on the curve of his ass. "Should I get you nice and clean so you'll be ready for me when we come back from dinner?"   
  
"Yes, please, Hikaru," Chekov says, squeezing Sulu's shoulders. "Clean me, please."   
  
Sulu lets out a long breath, trying not to think about how much he'll miss this, too. He grabs the soap and first lathers it over Chekov's back, Chekov turned away from him, his hands on the wall of the shower, fingers twitching with anticipation. Sulu kisses Chekov's neck as his soapy hands move lower, and he can't contain a moan when Chekov quivers as Sulu's hand slides between the cheeks of his ass.   
  
"Are you dirty?" Sulu asks as he fingers Chekov's tight little hole. "Did I make you dirty with my come?"   
  
Chekov grins; Sulu isn't as good at this sexy talk business as he is. He pushes back against Sulu's hand, spreading his legs wider, his feet squeaking over the shower's linoleum floor.   
  
"Does that sting?" Sulu asks as he slides his soap-slick finger in and out of Chekov, reaching down to cup his balls with his other hand. "Hmm? Are you still raw from being fucked?"   
  
"Feels good," Chekov breathes out, bucking backward. "Want you again, Hikaru, please."   
  
"Nuh-uh. I want you to sit there through dinner with your clean little hole burning to be filled, I want you to wait."   
  
Chekov whines in protest, pressing back more insistently, but Sulu flattens a hand against the small of his back and holds him in place, still teasing with his finger.   
  
"And you know we'll have to sit there for a long time, listening to Jim's bullshit, ordering drinks after dinner. I want you to fucking squirm, Pavel, I want you to need it so bad that you want to cry."   
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, crying already, his hands balled into fists on the shower wall. "Fuck me, please, I need it, please, oh, please!"   
  
"Shhh, don't beg," Sulu whispers, biting at Chekov's neck, his own cock throbbing as he drives his finger in deep in answer to every _please_. "I want to sit there at the table in the restaurant and know that you can't even think straight, that you're dreaming about having my cock deep up your ass, so much deeper than my finger can reach, and I want you to think about hard I'm gonna fuck you, and how good it's gonna feel, because you've been such a good boy and waited so patiently."   
  
Chekov sobs and comes against the wall of the shower. It always makes Sulu dizzy, seeing Chekov come without even touching his cock. He's so young and needs sex so much, and Sulu shamelessly taunts him with this knowledge. Chekov is obsessed with being seen as tough and grown-up at work, and Sulu knows how badly he needs to be allowed to lose control like this. Sulu braces himself against the wall of the shower and stares down at Chekov as he swallows up Sulu's cock like a grateful supplicant, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. When he moans for it Sulu comes, his fingers in Chekov's hair. It's been a long time since they were this crazy for each other, having sex four times a day, and Sulu knows, as his orgasm winds down and Chekov stands up to steady him with a hug, that Chekov senses Sulu's desperation, that he understands that there's something beyond a good run of sex going on here. Sulu squeezes Chekov against him and buries a whimper against his shoulder. Maybe if they just keep fucking like maniacs he'll be able to forget for longer than the duration of an orgasm that this is all going away soon.   
  
They dress and comb each other's hair, Sulu hating the chill in the room and wishing they could burrow under the blankets on the bed for at least another hour, until his stomach is whining in complaint. Chekov is sleepy, yawning and giving Sulu a knowing, dopey little smile, clutching at him as they head through the rain toward the restaurant. Sulu holds the umbrella and walks carefully across the slippery rope bridge, trying not to look down. The tree house hotel was Chekov's idea; Sulu is not a big fan of heights ever since the drill on Vulcan.   
  
When they get to the restaurant Jim is already there, along with McCoy and Scotty, the three of them drinking from a pitcher of the thick local booze, fermented tree sap. Sulu can't stand the stuff, but he doesn't want to be seen as a weakling while in the company of the biggest drinkers on the _Enterprise_ , Chekov included, so he accepts the glass that Jim orders for him.   
  
"Hell of a vacation," McCoy says with a scoff. "I haven't seen the sun since we docked."   
  
"It's romantic!" Jim says, elbowing McCoy, who scowls at him. Chekov presses his foot over Sulu's under the table. They're pretty sure that Jim and McCoy are fuck buddies. Sulu has a theory that McCoy is also deeply in love with Jim, and that Jim is oblivious to this, breaking poor Bones' bitter heart every day.   
  
"I bet these two are enjoying the weather," Jim says, smirking at Sulu and Chekov.   
  
"Ha," Sulu says, giving Jim a look that asks him to please shut up. This of course only makes Jim smile wider.   
  
"What are we gonna do without him for a year, huh?" Jim says, looking at Chekov. Sulu's insides ice up, and he grips his glass of fermented sap so tightly that his hand aches. Why the hell didn't he think this might happen? What the fuck was he thinking?   
  
"What do you mean?" Chekov asks, still giving Jim his usual benevolent smile.   
  
"I mean while Hikaru's off on in the Andorian galaxy flying for Paronto on that undercover mission. I didn't like the idea of giving him up, but the Admiral told me to send the pilot I'd trust with my life above all others, and that's Sulu."   
  
Chekov's face changes subtly, his smile disappearing and the light in his eyes going dark. He stares at Jim for a few beats, Sulu so tense that he's afraid he'll crush the glass in his hand, waiting.   
  
"For a year," Chekov says, somewhere between a statement and a question, directed at no one in particular, though he's still staring at Jim.   
  
"It'll be hard," Jim says, looking to Sulu. "But goddamn, if anyone can pull it off, you can. We'll be counting on you."   
  
"Yes, sir," Sulu says. He thinks of ways he could kill Jim, but this is really not his fault. He glances at Chekov, who seems to have stopped functioning on all but his emergency auxiliary levels, his face expressionless and his eyes focused on nothing. Sulu touches Chekov's foot with his and Chekov pulls away as if he's been burned, his knee banging the underside of the table.   
  
"Just two weeks from now, right?" Jim says as the food he and the others have ordered arrives, a waitress setting a giant plate of spare ribs down in front of Jim.   
  
"Yes, sir," Sulu says again. The smell of the food is making him feel ill, though just moments ago he was starving. He glances at Chekov, who is still staring at nothing, breathing a little faster now.   
  
"We'll all be nervous 'til you get back," Scotty says to Sulu. "Nobody flies her like you do."   
  
Sulu laughs at the compliment, sweat beading on his forehead. He can't stop looking at Chekov, and Chekov won't look back at him. When the waitress comes and asks Chekov what he'd like to eat he looks at her like she's crazy.   
  
"I – I think I have to go," Chekov says, standing. "I don't feel well."   
  
"What's wrong?" Sulu asks, and Chekov gives him a horrified look, as if asking this question is the worst thing he's done so far.   
  
"My stomach," Chekov says, and Sulu can hear the shake in his voice that he tries to hide from the others.   
  
"Aww, really?" Jim says. "Can Bones give you anything for it?"   
  
"What sort of pain is it?" McCoy asks.   
  
"I'm sorry, I think I'm going to throw up," Chekov says as he pushes away from the table, hurrying toward the door.   
  
"Damn," Jim says. "I guess the tree sap didn't sit too well with him. First time I've ever seen a drink get the better of Pavel – where you are going?" he asks Sulu when he stands.   
  
"I'm gonna make sure he's okay," Sulu says, though he knows that he's not, and his own stomach is churning at the thought of facing Chekov when he gets back to the room.   
  
"Let me know if he needs a hypospray," McCoy calls as Sulu heads for the door and out into the rain, which is coming down harder now. He can barely see Chekov up ahead on the rope bridge through the downpour, running through the rain, and Sulu runs, too, though one slip could send him tumbling five hundred feet down into the darkness. When he reaches their room he pulls open the door and finds Chekov inside, stuffing his clothes into the bag that he and Sulu packed together before leaving the _Enterprise_.   
  
"What are you doing?" Sulu asks, though he knows. He doesn't know how else to start. Chekov is sobbing quietly, as if he wants to hide his tears from Sulu. Sulu has never seen him cry, and it's tearing at the seams of his own stunned composure.   
  
"You weren't going to tell me!" Chekov cries. "You were just going to leave."   
  
"Of course I was going to tell you, I was just dreading it so much, waiting for --"   
  
"Waiting for what? Twenty more goodbye fucks? God, I'm so stupid! I knew you were using me for sex, and I still, I still --"   
  
"You don't really think that," Sulu says, grabbing Chekov's arm. Chekov jerks away from him, and for a moment an instinctual fear rips through Sulu's body, as if they're about to get into a physical fight. Chekov is glaring at him now, his eyes red and wet.   
  
"Leave me alone!" he shouts. "You've made me into such a fool."   
  
"Pavel, please --"   
  
"You were just going to, what, keep fucking me until I couldn't walk and then board your shuttle and leave me to figure it out on my own? I knew something was going on with you, the way you've been, but I thought -- I thought --"   
  
"I didn't want to spoil our shore leave, okay!" Sulu says. "Now stop, sit down, you're hysterical."   
  
"Fuck you!" Chekov screams, probably loud enough for Jim and the others to hear him back at the restaurant, even over the pounding rain. "You think I'm so stupid, just because I acted like a little idiot for you."   
  
"I don't think you're stupid! Don't you know this has been driving me out of my mind, figuring out when I would tell you, and how? Leave it to fucking Jim --"   
  
"Oh, Jim, yes, you can't stand the idea that I would listen to anyone but you, that I would even look at them --"   
  
"Pavel, goddammit, calm the fuck down before you have aneurysm."   
  
"I won't calm down!" Chekov resumes his packing, and Sulu stands back, staring at him. Chekov is an only child, the darling of parents who were in their late thirties when they had him, and he's never really shown his melodramatic side before, but Sulu isn't very surprised by it. He grabs Chekov's arms and won't let him yank away this time, pushing him down to the bed and pinning him there. Chekov breaks into sobs again, struggling for a moment and then going limp under Sulu's weight.   
  
"I'm sorry you had to find out like that, but I was going to tell you," Sulu says. "I just -- I was stalling because I don't want it to be true, and I knew you'd be upset when you found out. And how fucking dare you accuse me of using you for sex? You know I'm not like that. You know how much I care about you."   
  
"Bullshit," Chekov says, his face pinched up with his tears, cheeks angry-red. "You just want me to worship you, Hikaru, I'm not stupid enough not to know that."   
  
"Yeah, Pavel, I do want that, because I kind of worship you, in case you haven't noticed."   
  
"I haven't!" Chekov shouts, loud enough to make Sulu back off a little, and Chekov uses the opportunity to fight out from underneath him. He picks up his half-packed bag and heads for the door.   
  
"Pavel, wait." Sulu chases him to the door, pushing it closed when he tries to open it. "Where are you going?"   
  
"Away from you. Maybe I'll go stay with Jim."   
  
"Pavel, stop -- stop!" Sulu shouts when Chekov tries to open the door again. He grabs Chekov's shoulders, struggling to pull him back into the room, and Chekov squirms in his grip, stumbling to the floor, Sulu following him down. Chekov lies on his stomach, weeping against the floor while Sulu straddles him, holding Chekov's hands behind his back. Sulu is out of breath, not sure what he's doing except anything he can to keep Chekov here, to make him listen.   
  
"You'd rather beat me up than let me leave you," Chekov sobs out.   
  
"I'm not beating you up." Sulu presses Chekov's arms to his sides and leans down to put his face against the back of Chekov's neck, which is hot and still damp from the rain. "Just fucking listen to me."   
  
"No. I hate you, let me go!"   
  
"You hate me, huh? An hour ago you loved me."   
  
"Only someone I love could make me hate them this much," Chekov says, and then his sobs swallow up his voice, his whole body quaking between Sulu's thighs. "Oh, Hikaru," he finally manages to say, the words trembling. "You fucking fucker."   
  
"Jesus," Hikaru says, snorting out a laugh, his eyes wet against the back of Chekov's neck. "I love you."   
  
"No, you don't. Don't mock me. You bastard, you fucking bastard."   
  
"Pavel, I do love you, God, I tried not to, but I couldn't help it, and now you're my whole fucking life. How am I supposed to live without you for a year? I didn't want to tell you because I don't even want to think about it. It's childish, I know."   
  
"I'm sorry I made you love me," Chekov says, scoffing. "How awful of me."   
  
"I forgive you," Sulu says. He licks the back of Chekov's neck very softly, tasting the rainwater there. "Do you forgive me for waiting too long to tell you? I just, every time I would think about telling you you'd have this sweet, happy look on your face and I couldn't handle the thought of making you sad."   
  
"Oh, that's such a bullshit excuse, Hikaru!" Chekov says, huffing. "Are you going to let me up or not?"   
  
Sulu leans back and lets Chekov roll over onto his back. His face is red and twisted with fury, and Sulu thinks it must be hard, still being so adorable when he's sincerely angry. Sulu sighs and sinks down onto Chekov, keeping him in place. Chekov's bottom lip trembles, and he shakes his head.   
  
"Don't go," Chekov says weakly, holding Sulu's elbows. "Don't go away from me."   
  
"I don't want to, but it's an order from Kirk. What am I supposed to tell him? Don't you think I'd get out of this if I could?" In a way, it's a relief that Sulu doesn't have a choice. He loves Chekov, but he loves flying, too, and this might be the most challenging assignment he'll ever get. He's glad that the decision isn't his, that he doesn't have to feel guilty on top of feeling like Chekov is a source of air that Sulu has been asked to somehow survive without.   
  
"Come on," Sulu says, pulling Chekov up by his arms. He's limp and petulant, sniffling and giving Sulu betrayed little looks. Sulu puts him in the bed and sits on the end, dragging Chekov's wet boots onto his lap and beginning to work on untying the laces.   
  
"I'm not staying here with you," Chekov says. "You've got not respect for me. I'm just a sex toy to you. While you're gone you'll find someone else to fuck, maybe that Paronto person."   
  
"Stop saying shit you don't mean," Sulu says. He keep his face calm and his eyes on Chekov's laces, not wanting to show him how much it hurts to be accused like this. "Anyway, have you seen Paronto? He's about six foot seven, three hundred pounds. Not really my type."   
  
"I know what your type is." Chekov glares at Sulu as Sulu pulls off Chekov's boots and then his wet socks. "Your type is like me, or like what you think I am, a weakling, someone who will do whatever you say."   
  
"Since when do you do whatever I say?"   
  
"That is all I ever do! Anything you want! God!" Chekov pushes his hands into his hair and pulls at his curls. "What is wrong with me? I can't believe the way I've acted with you. Whose bed do we sleep in every night? Yours! Why did we come here on shore leave? Because you like plants and this fucking swamp has especially big trees!"   
  
Sulu laughs, though he feels like he's being hollowed out, his chest aching. He moves up to undo Chekov's belt, and Chekov scowls and slaps his hand away, but when Sulu tries again Chekov allows him to take his pants off, letting loose a shuddering little sigh as Sulu undresses him.   
  
"I didn't want to come here, either," Sulu says. "But you wanted to make me happy with this place, and it meant a lot to me. Everything you do means a lot to me."   
  
"Not everything," Chekov says. "I told you I love you. You just stared at me like a spider had crawled out of my nose."   
  
"I thought if I said it and then left you would think it was cheap. The way you said it was so real, I didn't want to spoil it by -- I don't know, I was stupid."   
  
"Finally we get to the root of the problem."   
  
Sulu grunts with annoyance and tugs Chekov's shirt over his head, Chekov arching up to help him take it off, moaning a little as he does, somewhere between irritation and reluctant contentment. Chekov flops back to the pillows and Sulu pulls down his briefs, then goes to the bag that Chekov packed and yanks out a pair of sweatpants. He brings them back to the bed, but Chekov is already huddled under the blankets, lying on his side and staring at Sulu with sudden sadness that almost makes Sulu's knees buckle.   
  
"Will you write to me every day?" Chekov asks. "On the PADD? To tell me that you're safe?"   
  
Sulu swallows heavily, pulling off his own wet clothes. He wants to delay the delivery of this additional bad news, but he's learned his lesson about that.   
  
"I won't be able to," he says.   
  
"Well, you don't have to _every_ day," Chekov says. "Just once in awhile? God, once a week at least, Hikaru, please?"   
  
"I can't." Sulu's voice finally breaks. He steps out of his boxers and throws them on the floor, moving toward the bed. Chekov scoots over and allows him entry, and Sulu wraps around him, clinging hard.   
  
"What do you mean?" Chekov asks, stroking Sulu's hair. "Hikaru?"   
  
"It's an undercover mission," Sulu says. "I can't beam back for breaks, I can't write, I can't have any contact with anyone on the _Enterprise_."   
  
"Oh," Chekov says after some time has passed, Sulu taking deep breaths and trying to steady his voice.   
  
"How could you think that, what you said, that I was using you?" he asks, squeezing Chekov closer. "Not even being able to talk to you, that's what's fucking killing me more than anything."   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov says. He threads his fingers through Sulu's hair, massaging his scalp the way he does when Sulu has had a horrible day, when he's slumped on the bed with Chekov lying behind him, doting on him.   
  
"I won't make it," Sulu says. "It's too long, I can't -- I don't know who I'll be after living without you for a year."   
  
"Oh, God," Chekov says softly. He shudders in Sulu's arms and wraps his leg around Sulu's back. "Now I understand why you didn't tell me. I feel sick."   
  
"Are you going to throw up?" Sulu asks, and Chekov laughs sadly, shaking his head. He pushes his face up under Sulu's chin, the heat of his breath against Sulu's skin making the rest of him feel so much colder.   
  
"My mother wept when I told her I would be gone for five years," Chekov says. "I was so excited about leaving my parents, I felt like such a -- man, I guess, but then on the day of the shuttle launch I got so ill, I could hardly stand up straight to hug them goodbye."   
  
"But you grew accustomed to living without them," Sulu says. "That's what I'm afraid of. When I come back, you'll blush and tell me that you've been sleeping in someone else's bed -- ow!"   
  
"How can you say that?" Chekov asks, hitting Sulu's shoulder again. He's sitting up now, glowering down at Sulu. "How can you act like I'm horrible for thinking bad things of you and then say something like that about me?"   
  
"Jesus, I don't -- I don't know, I mean, how can I expect you to wait for me? Without even a single fucking word? And watch, as soon as I'm gone everyone on that ship will be trying to bed you."   
  
"That doesn't mean I'll do it!" Chekov hits Sulu again. Sulu whines in protest, wincing, and Chekov leans down to kiss him in apology, nuzzling at his cheek.   
  
"I want you to be the only one who was ever inside me," Chekov whispers in Sulu's ear, his hand trailing down over Sulu's chest and then his stomach. "I won't give up all the other years just for one that I have to spend without you."   
  
"You say that now," Sulu says. "And I know you mean it, Pavel, I do. But a year is such a long time, especially in space."   
  
"How can you have so little faith in me?" Chekov asks.   
  
"I'm just protecting myself," Sulu says, his heart racing when he hears the honesty in his words. "I'm preparing for the worst so I won't get hurt if it happens. Or something. I don't know. Oh, fuck, Pavel." He holds Chekov's face with both of his hands, sniffling. "Fuck."   
  
"Before," Chekov says quietly, "When I was only hoping, I felt like I would die if I couldn't have you, like my limbs would fall off and my eyes would roll back, nothing abstract, Hikaru, I thought I would die in agony if you didn't hold me when I reached for you. Now, I think this is worse. It's like – like I stuffed half of everything I have into your body. And you're just going to take it away."   
  
"No," Sulu says, still holding Chekov's face in his hands. "Because you've got half of me, too. So if you need that to keep you alive, you've got it, you've got my stuff, okay? You'll have it the whole time I'm gone."   
  
"Hikaru, I need you," Chekov says, pulling at Sulu, making himself small and soft beneath him. "Please, God, just -- I can't talk about this anymore. I need you, please."   
  
"Okay," Sulu says, "Yeah." He doesn't really feel like having sex, but he can't lie naked beside Chekov like this without being at least a little bit hard, and it's not difficult to get himself the rest of the way there when Chekov arches up to kiss him like they're already saying goodbye, breathing harshly into his mouth.   
  
It's not like it has been lately, frantic and fast, both of them already thinking about the next time, coming harder because they know that there will be one. Sulu takes his time, and as he maps Chekov with his fingers, he realizes that he never really has before, that he's been relaxed into a routine from the beginning, that first time when they kept the lights off and ground their dicks together until they came in their underwear. Afterward they'd clutched at each other, both a little afraid of what had just happened, needing comfort. Maybe since then it's always been the same, a desperate tussle and then the warm descent of the answering calm, their hearts still pounding. Sulu sucks Chekov's cock with a languid pace he's never bothered with before, memorizing him, the hot weight on Sulu's tongue and the sour of pre-come in the back of his throat, and Chekov is crying by the end of it, as if Sulu has been teasing him on purpose. When he comes Sulu swallows most of it, then pulls back to watch the rest slide down Chekov's spurting cock, licking it up when Chekov is raw and whimpering.   
  
"Now, now please," Chekov breathes out, but Sulu dips down to lick him open first, and Chekov shouts up at the ceiling, his whole body arching as he presses himself against Sulu's mouth. Sulu wants a recording of the sounds Chekov makes when he feels good like this, something to keep him alive for a year, like bottled sunlight. He sounds so goddamn young, so overwhelmed, stumbling over English words and humming out little moans. He always gets kind of panicked when he can't feel enough of Sulu's mouth on him, when he starts to want more and more until the only thing that will steady him is Sulu's cock, the sensation of being filled. Sulu waits patiently for Chekov to reach this point, his dick aching for it as he slicks himself. Finally, when Chekov's whole body is jerking with shudders, his hands clawed into the sheets, Sulu slides up and pushes into him slow, watching the tension drain from Chekov's face as Sulu sinks into him.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov says in a whisper, staring up at him, and then he's crying for real, tears sliding down his cheeks.   
  
"Shh," Sulu says. He kisses Chekov's wet cheeks, licking up his tears. They taste good, which is unsurprising. Sulu even loves the taste of Chekov's sweat. He wants to bottle all of it and have at least a grotesque collection of specimens with him while he's away.   
  
"Hang on," he says, still deep inside Chekov, who is squeezing at him mercilessly, trying to break Sulu from his slow rhythm. Sulu reaches down to the floor, where he left the bag that Chekov stuffed full of their things, and roots around inside it until he comes up with his little grooming kit. He opens it on the bed, Chekov whining in frustration beneath him, bucking his hips.   
  
"What are you doing?" Chekov asks, tensing a little when Sulu holds up a small pair of scissors.   
  
"For me, while I'm away," Sulu says, unrolling one of Chekov's curls between two fingers. "Can I?"   
  
"Yeah," Chekov says with a little grin. "You creep."   
  
"Mmm." Sulu snips the curl off, and it seems so small once he's cut it, not enough. He kisses it and sets it carefully on the windowsill beside the bed. He puts the scissors down next to it and knocks the grooming kit back into the bag on the floor. Chekov sniffles and wipes at his face.   
  
"Will it have some special property because you were inside me when you took it?" Chekov asks, trying to smile, to make fun of Sulu, but his lips are shaking.   
  
"Yes," Sulu says, leaning down to press his face against Chekov's neck. "I'll mix it with extracts from some of my plants. It'll conjure you, then you'll disappear at midnight or something."   
  
"Don't have sex with my doppelganger!" Chekov says, sounding surprisingly sincere, and Sulu laughs, giving him a little push of his hips. Chekov gasps, then lets out a long sigh of relief, twitching underneath Sulu.   
  
"Fuck me hard, Sulu," Chekov says when Sulu rolls his hips slowly, and that definitely wasn't the plan, because hard also means fast, but Sulu always goes right to pieces when Chekov uses his last name on him in bed. Chekov knows that, and he grins when Sulu grabs his hips and gives him a powerful thrust. Sulu takes hold of the backs of Chekov's knees and lifts him a little, moving into him experimentally until Chekov screams as Sulu fucks against his prostate.   
  
" _Da, da_ ," Chekov says, going limp, surrendering. "There, Sulu, fuck me _there_ , hard, oh, please!"   
  
"Why do you call me Sulu in bed?" he asks, though he sort of knows. Chekov smirks up at him, and Sulu wants to scramble for his PADD so he can take a picture. He's going to take a thousand pictures before he leaves, though he knows they'll only hurt to look at. It will be a good kind of hurt, maybe.   
  
"I call you that - _uh_ , yeah, _fuck_ \--"   
  
"Tell me," Sulu says, squeezing the backs of Chekov's knees. Chekov's eyes snap open and burn into Sulu's in a way that makes Sulu nervous about what he might say.   
  
"I call you that because you're my superior," he says.   
  
"Yeah, but --"   
  
"And maybe I respect you most when your cock's up my -- _uhhh_ , yeah!"   
  
"You want it hard?" Sulu asks with a snarl, annoyed by that comment. He pulls out without warning, making Chekov yelp, then flips him over. "You got it."   
  
"Mmm, I love it when you quote the Captain."   
  
"Fucking brat," Sulu growls as he pushes back in, giving Chekov's ass a hard slap. Chekov squeaks in pain, and Sulu watches his red hand print appear on Chekov's perfect skin, wishing he was nimble enough to lean down and lick over it while still sheathed inside Chekov's ass.   
  
"Fuck me," Chekov whines, squirming desperately. "Hikaru. Please."   
  
Sulu puts his arms around Chekov's chest and lifts him up from the bed, but not all the way, leaving him suspended in mid-air, dangling in Sulu's grip while he fucks him so hard that his muscles ache, sweat dripping from his hairline. Chekov cries and pants, jerking himself, but Sulu grabs his hand and pulls it away from his cock, making him wait, making him sob harder. Sulu feels like he's falling over a cliff when he comes, gravity leaving him and then returning to push him down onto Chekov's back. He breathes in harsh groans as he fills Chekov with come, getting off on the ache in his throat. Chekov is keening, his whole body thrumming with it, trembling in Sulu's loosening arms.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov manages when they're lying on their sides, Sulu still inside him, still holding Chekov's arms so that he can't touch himself. "Let me come." He twitches in Sulu's grip, whining, begging.   
  
"Hang on." Sulu licks at Chekov's ear, chewing it at little. Chekov groans, and Sulu looks over Chekov's shoulder, down at his cock, which is red and perfect-straight. Sulu knows how full it is without touching it, how heavy it feels. Chekov is groggy with exhaustion, his cheeks bright and his back slick with sweat against Sulu's chest.   
  
"Lie on your stomach," Sulu says as he pulls out of Chekov, very slowly, making him feel every inch. Chekov whimpers but does as Sulu asked, dumping himself down onto the bed and immediately humping against the mattress. Sulu puts a firm hand to the small of his back to hold him still.   
  
"Spread out for me," Sulu says, breathy with the request, a pulse of lazy arousal twitching through his spent cock. Chekov spreads apart, and Sulu can see by the way he shakes that moving hurts, that anything that isn't an orgasm must hurt. Sulu strokes Chekov's ass with just his fingertips.   
  
"Good boy," he says softly. "You're so good, Pavel, such a good boy."   
  
Chekov whines and reaches back to pull his ass cheeks apart, knowing what Sulu has in mind.   
  
"Please," he begs, spreading his legs a little wider.   
  
"God, look at you," Sulu says, bending down to lick the softest part of Chekov's left ass cheek, making him whimper. "How many times have I fucked you today? Four, five? Jesus, you're so red, goddamn, with my come leaking out of you, I wish you could see."   
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov cries, pushing himself against the mattress desperately, though only once.   
  
"Okay, okay. I'll clean that sore little hole for you, you want me to clean you?"   
  
Chekov only sobs in response, his fingers trembling as he holds himself apart. Sulu settles down between Chekov's legs and laps at the mess he's made of Chekov, starting to get hard again when Chekov moans with relief, powerfully at first, then feebly as Sulu licks his come out of him.   
  
"Poor Pavel, look how raw you are," Sulu says, teasing his fingers over Chekov's inflamed skin, watching his wet hole grasp at them, wanting more. Chekov just sobs, twitching mindlessly against the mattress as Sulu touches and licks him, driving him to the brink. Sulu takes pity when Chekov's big, dramatic sobs give way to silent little ones that shake the bed. He pushes two fingers into Chekov, still licking him as he searches inside Chekov's used-up body for the place that will set him off, and as soon as he strokes him there Chekov curses and comes, crying and grabbing a pillow with both hands as if he's afraid he'll be ripped out of the world if he doesn't hold on tight. Sulu pulls his fingers out carefully and kisses the small of Chekov's back before turning him over and crowding around him, watching Chekov's face as he recovers. Chekov takes big, pained mouthfuls of air and opens his eyes just a little, his hand flopping aimlessly against Sulu's chest.   
  
"Fuck, Hikaru," he says in two sharp exhalations, and Sulu laughs, running his hand through Chekov's wrecked hair. The rain is still coming down hard outside, the whole forest quieted under it. Sulu stares down at Chekov for a long time, wanting pictures of him like this, and knowing that they won't do him any good. He puts his head down on Chekov's shoulder, and Chekov loops a shaking arm around him.   
  
"Are you okay?" Sulu asks, bumping Chekov's chin with his nose. "I wasn't too --?"   
  
"Feels good to hurt like this," Chekov says breathlessly, staring up at the ceiling. Sulu sighs and rolls Chekov onto his side, and Chekov burrows against Sulu's chest gratefully, shutting his eyes again.   
  
Neither of them knows what to say, so they just lie like that, listening to the rain. Sulu drifts in and out of sleep, and finally gets up to get some water when Chekov is fast asleep beside him, turned onto his stomach again. Sulu brushes his teeth and drinks two big glasses full of water, feeling destroyed, glad that they can sleep late tomorrow. But the countdown has begun, and for both of them it will only be one of the few mornings in bed that they have left together before they're separated. Sulu leans on the bathroom counter, trying to get his bearings. This shore leave ends in two days, then it's back to the ship for twelve more days, then he's gone.   
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov cries, and Sulu hurries back into the room, afraid that Chekov has tweaked his back. When he gets there Chekov is sitting up, looking panicked, and he clings to Sulu when he sits on the bed beside him.   
  
"What's wrong?" Sulu asks, stroking Chekov's back as he shivers in Sulu's arms, goosebumps rising over his skin. His sweat has cooled, the humidity of sex seeping out of the room.   
  
"Tell me that I dreamed the part about you leaving for a year," Chekov says.   
  
"It'll be okay, Pavel. When I come back, when we're together again, it'll be like doing it all over again, the first kiss and the first fuck, and sleeping in a bed together again, God, it'll just feel that much better. We have to think of it that way."   
  
"You won't know me anymore."   
  
"Yes, I will."   
  
Chekov sniffles and untangles himself from Sulu's arms, sinking back down to the pillows. Sulu lies down beside him and puts his chin on Chekov's shoulder.   
  
"How about this?" he says. "I'll write to you every day, I will. I won't be able to send the letters, but when I get back I'll give them all to you, three hundred and sixty-five of them. Then, if it's too weird, seeing each other again after all that time, you can read the letters and make up for the lost time."   
  
"Will you leave me some of your clothes to sleep in?" Chekov asks, desperate with the question, as if he's asking Sulu to leave him some of his fingers.   
  
"Yeah, of course. And I'll have this," Sulu says, reaching over Chekov and plucking the curl from the windowsill. He tickles it over Chekov's cheek and Chekov smiles, flinching away.   
  
"Be sure to write down the fantasies that you masturbate to," Chekov says. "In your letters. The ones about me."   
  
"I'll be sure to do that."   
  
"Hikaru?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Don't go." Chekov pulls Sulu onto him, wrapping his arms around Sulu's shoulders as Sulu's weight settles onto him.   
  
"I love you," Sulu says, the words falling from him easily now. "I'll be with you. I can't leave you now, not really. You own me."   
  
Chekov scoffs. "Yes, and how much did I pay? You'll take most of me away with you."   
  
"Stop it, Pavel. You can't have a bad attitude about this."   
  
"Yes, I can."   
  
"Well, it will only make it harder."   
  
"Hikaru." Chekov looks at Sulu like he's out of his mind, rearing back. "There is nothing that could make this harder. Nothing."   
  
Sulu gives up, shaking his head and wrapping around Chekov when he turns away, pressing his back against Sulu's chest. The rain keeps falling, and the room keeps getting colder, until finally they need the blankets to keep warm. Sulu pulls them up, tucking them around Chekov and then himself. Chekov sighs. Sulu feels like he should say something more, but it would be pointless to try. Chekov is determined not to be consoled. Sulu loves him so much for that, though it irritates him. He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep, forcing himself not to think about the present. He thinks about the day he met Chekov and how he hadn't thought anything of him, really, except that his accent made him seem sweet, kind of lost.   
  
Thunder rumbles by outside, shaking the tree their room is perched in. Sulu thinks about the long fall down to the planet's surface and wraps around Chekov more tightly. Chekov says something in Russian, talking in his sleep. Sulu closes his eyes and tries to tell himself that a year isn't really so long, but from here it seems so massive and solid, like it's in the room with them even now, wedged between them already.


	2. Chapter 2

The next two weeks pass in an eye blink, Chekov growing increasingly listless and Sulu trying desperately to act as if the world isn't about to end. They spend all of their free time together, ignoring friends and leaving PADD messages unanswered, milking every second they have. Most of the time they lie together on Sulu's bed, staring at each other and sighing, before sex and after. Sometimes Chekov cries. Sulu rubs his back when he does, keeping his touch light, as if Chekov has become fragile. Eventually, the night before Sulu's scheduled departure arrives. Kirk throws a kind of goodbye party for him in the mess, and Sulu can only stomach it for an hour. He thanks everyone who attended and goes back to his room, Chekov trailing him wordlessly, staring at the floor.   
  
"Are you all packed?" Chekov asks, sitting on Sulu's bed and watching him undress and water his plants, which Chekov has promised to care for while he's gone.   
  
"Yep," Sulu says, lifting his PADD from the desk. "Except for this." He turns on the camera feature and holds it up. Chekov slumps his shoulders and gives the camera a miserable look.   
  
"Act like you're happy," Sulu says.   
  
"I can't."   
  
"C'mon, you look depressed as shit in all the pictures I've taken of you."   
  
"I am depressed as shit."   
  
Sulu sighs and places his PADD on top of his bag, which is packed and sitting by the door. He'll board the shuttle that will take him to the ship that will then take him to the Andorian galaxy at 06:00. Seven hours from now. His stomach pitches as he really lets it sink in: that's all they have left, seven hours. It's the last stretch of time that matters before _one year_.   
  
"You didn't eat anything at the party," Sulu says. He runs a hand through Chekov's hair and Chekov leans away like an irritated child, like he's mad at Sulu now. "Are you hungry?"   
  
"Fuck, no, I'm not hungry, Hikaru!"   
  
"God, I'll miss hearing you cursing in English. It's so awkward. You're so fucking adorable."   
  
Chekov moans with annoyance and falls down to Sulu's pillow, clutching at it. He's still dressed, and Sulu is wearing only his boxer shorts, wondering if they should have one last fuck or if they've worn each other out completely over the last two weeks, pushing their bodies together desperately like men on death row plunging into their last meals, unable to really taste anything for the dread. Sulu pushes his hand up underneath Chekov's sweater, scratching short nails over his back. Chekov shivers and sighs.   
  
"How can this be happening?" he says.   
  
"Don't be so dramatic. Considering what we do for a living, it could be a lot worse. God, what if I was assigned to another ship for a five year mission?"   
  
"Are you trying to make me feel worse?" Chekov asks tearfully, burying his face in Sulu's pillow. "That could still happen!"   
  
"It won't, not as long as Kirk is in charge. He likes us, he won't get rid of us. Pavel, c'mon, don't waste time feeling sorry for yourself, not tonight."   
  
"I can't feel anything else," Chekov says. "I can't even feel you anymore, it's like you're already gone."   
  
"Pavel," Sulu says, trying to keep his tone scolding, hiding the shake in his voice. He leans down and puts his chin on Chekov's shoulder, wrapping around him, tucking him in tight. Chekov whines and reaches back to hook his arm around Sulu' side.   
  
"Oh, God!" he says suddenly, sitting up. "I just realized I haven't taken any pictures of you!"   
  
"Have you got your PADD?" Sulu asks, yawning. He wishes he wasn't so tired; there's no way in hell that he's going to waste time on sleep.   
  
"It's in my room!" Chekov says so like he's announcing the detonation of a bomb.   
  
"So go get it."   
  
"I can't! Unless you come with me." He grabs Sulu's shoulder. "I can't leave you, not even for a minute."   
  
"Just use mine," Sulu says, gesturing to his bag. "I can send you the pictures before I go."   
  
"Hikaru, can't you send me things in secret while you're away?"   
  
"Only if I want to be court marshaled and dishonorably discharged."   
  
"Okay, but -- can I live in your room while you're gone? Do you think Kirk would allow it?"   
  
"You have the access code. Do whatever you want, it's all yours."   
  
Chekov groans and gets up, crossing the room to get Sulu's PADD. He holds it up, his hands shaking, his expression so dejected and pitiful that it's almost funny.   
  
"I can't take pictures," Chekov says. "It's too sad. They'll only make me cry while you're gone."   
  
"Then I guess you're just going to have to forget what I look like."   
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov lifts the PADD again and snaps a picture of Sulu stretched out on the bed in his boxers.   
  
"Should I do a strip tease for you?" Sulu asks. Every word hurts, and every passing second stings. He wants to curl into a ball and weep, but joking like this is easier, more proactive.   
  
"I don't want naked pictures of you," Chekov says. "I want sweet pictures. Ones that will break my heart." He sits on the bed beside Sulu and takes a close up of his face. Sulu pulls Chekov down and holds the PADD up over them, their faces pressed together. He takes a picture and then checks the image to make sure they both made it into the frame.   
  
"Look at you," Sulu says, grinning and showing Chekov the screen. "You look like a puppy somebody just kicked."   
  
"Don't call me a puppy." Chekov shoves Sulu and looks again. "You look like you're high."   
  
"God, I wish I was. Have you got any real vodka in your room?"   
  
"No, it's all gone. My estimations for a five year supply didn't include sharing it with you and Scotty."   
  
"I guess I shouldn't drink, anyway."   
  
"You should sleep, Hikaru. Look, your eyes are falling shut."   
  
"But -- I can't -- this is it -- I don't want to --"   
  
"Just sleep, and I'll take pictures of you sleeping," Chekov says, lifting the PADD again.   
  
"Oh, that's a restful thought."   
  
They lie there for awhile after that, legs twisted together, their noses touching on the pillow. Sulu's eyes are drooping, and he pinches himself to stay awake.   
  
"Go to sleep, Hikaru." Chekov kisses Sulu's nose and strokes his hair, and Sulu thinks of the list: a year without Chekov touching him like this, lulling him under, Sulu fighting to stay awake for more sex or conversation or to actually try to make it through a movie without nodding off.   
  
"Dammit," Sulu says, his eyes falling shut. "Pavel -- Pavel, shit --"   
  
"I know, Hikaru, but there is nothing to be done. You'll want to be alert for the start of your mission, yes? So sleep, I'll be here, I'll watch over you."   
  
"We should, we should do something," Sulu says, mumbling, barely managing to get the words out. Already his thoughts are slipping around nonsensically, and he battles for consciousness, losing badly. Chekov is still stroking him, and a panicked, half-awake fear sparks through Sulu: he forgot to bottle the smell of Chekov's skin, the taste of his sweat, the sounds he makes when Sulu is inside him. He forgot to pack Chekov in his bag with the rest of the things he'll need on his trip.   
  
Sulu's alarm blares at 05:00, and he's awake instantly, popping up from the mattress, disoriented and thinking for a moment that they're under attack. He slaps the alarm to shut it up, and Chekov stirs beside him, rolling onto his back to yawn. Sulu can tell by the puffiness of his eyes that he was sleeping, too. He reaches down to cup Chekov's cheek in his hand, then lies back down to snuggle up with him for the last time. Chekov twists his arm around Sulu's back and pulls him close, whining sleepily.   
  
"One more time," he begs, his voice a sad little croak, and Sulu nods, knowing what he means. He pulls Chekov's sweater off, then his sweatpants, underwear, socks. He lets his hands roam over Chekov's body, wishing he had more time, because Chekov feels more real in this moment than he ever has before. Sulu thumbs Chekov's little nipples, adding them to the list, then rubs his trembling stomach and his smooth, tight sides. He pulls at Chekov's erection, drawing a quiet gasp from him, then moves his hand lower to palm the heat between his legs. He digs his fingers into the insides of Chekov's thighs, where his skin is so soft that Sulu has always feels a little guilty for touching it.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov cries, pulling Sulu up to kiss him. Sulu settles down on top of Chekov, breathing hard and trying to absorb the feeling of all of Chekov's skin pressed against all of his, trying to store it up inside himself. He grinds down against Chekov slowly, wanting to live in this moment for as long as he can, pretending not to notice the minutes ticking by on the clock's display.   
  
When he pushes into Chekov, knowing that it's the last time he'll be able to sink into the welcoming heat of his body for an entire year breaks Sulu completely, like a boot to his back. He chews his lips, trying not to sob, and pushes his face against Chekov's cheek as he begins to move inside him, still slow, the ragged push of Chekov's breath humming through Sulu's body, too. Chekov is holding Sulu's arms so tightly that it hurts, but Sulu doesn't deny him the right to leave bruises. Later they'll be a comfort.   
  
"Oh, please, please," Chekov begs in a whisper, and Sulu knows he can't give him what he's asking for, but he tries to make it up to him with his body, holding Chekov's arms up over his head and fucking him nice and slow, making him whine and writhe, though he doesn't ask Sulu to make it harder or faster, just lies there with his feet braced on Sulu's sides, staring up at him. The light in the room is still on ten percent, and Sulu wants a picture of Chekov like this, the gravity of his sadness blinking away at moments, when his body flushes everything but pleasure from his face.   
  
"Tell me you won't let anyone else fuck you like this," Sulu says, wanting to push back the orgasm that's beginning to build, tightening up his senses. "Not like this, not in a bed, not face to face --"   
  
"Fucking shut up, Hikaru," Chekov sobs out, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Just shut up, shut up."   
  
"Just tell me, Pavel, please --"   
  
Chekov sits up on his elbows with a groan and nips at Sulu's lower lip, then kisses him hard, his ass tensing every time their tongues meet, squeezing Sulu's cock and milking out his pre-come, getting him too close.   
  
"No one fucks me like you, not ever," Chekov says, growling behind the words, his eyes dark and beautiful with fury, locked on Sulu's. "You make me feel like I'll grow wings."   
  
Sulu cries out then, not in orgasm but in something similar, an unbearable release that he can't hold back anymore. He pushes Chekov back down to the bed and gives him three good, hard thrusts before he comes, sobbing through his orgasm as his hips twitch mindlessly, pumping into Chekov until he's empty. Chekov kisses him in the aftermath, jerking his cock, and Sulu closes his hand around Chekov's. They're staring at each other when Chekov comes, their fingers lacing together around Chekov's cock, Chekov holding Sulu's gaze until he can't any longer, his head tipping back as he groans.   
  
Sulu lies inside Chekov for a long time, spilled on top of him, catching his breath. Chekov spreads a hand across Sulu's back, not stroking him, just holding him in place. Sulu tries to bottle this, tries to keep it: Chekov's clean sweat mingling with his, his chest rising and falling under Sulu's, his body loose and open around Sulu's cock, filled and sated, softened up.   
  
"Goddamn," Sulu says, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched sob. "Pavel."   
  
"Shh, shh. It's okay. It's okay, Hikaru. Come now, let's get in the shower."   
  
By the time they're under the spray of the water they seemed to have reached a silent agreement about crying, and there's no more of that. They kiss each other in sad little pecks as they pass the soap and shampoo, taking turns to rinse. Sulu shuts his eyes as Chekov washes his back for him, thinking about the long days and months before he'll have this again.   
  
"Did you sleep well?" Chekov asks as he rubs soap over Sulu's back, and Sulu wants to tell him that he doesn't have to bother with small talk, not now, but he just reaches back and palms Chekov's ass, giving it a goodbye squeeze.   
  
"Yeah, I slept pretty well," Sulu says. He feels hollow, like his voice is just a prepared recording. "You?"   
  
Chekov sighs and turns Sulu around to rinse his back. He looks up at him sadly, his hands on Sulu's chest.   
  
"I wish I could have waited," Chekov says. "To fall in love with you. I wish I could have waited until you got back."   
  
"Don't say that. I wouldn't have wanted to miss any of the stuff we've had so far."   
  
"Any of the stuff, Hikaru?" Chekov says with a little smile.   
  
"Sorry, I'm not very eloquent at the moment."   
  
They get out of the shower and dry off in miserable silence. Sulu has the heat in the room up pretty high, but he still feels iced over. He pulls on his clothes, stopping Chekov when he begins to do the same.   
  
"Don't," he says, leading Chekov over to the bed. "Here, I want to leave here with you naked in my bed."   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov says with a sigh. He sounds exhausted, and it's not hard to guide him back into the bed. He lies on his side, tucking his hands under his cheek as Sulu pulls the blankets up over him. Sulu kneels by the bed and covers Chekov's face in kisses before licking his lips apart.   
  
"Before you go," Chekov says, "See that notebook on your desk? Take it with you."   
  
"What is it?" Sulu asks, turning to look. He doesn't move to get it, not ready to pull himself from Chekov yet.   
  
"It's something I wrote for you last night." Chekov grins sheepishly. "That was why I wanted you to sleep. I'd been planning on writing it all week, but I couldn't make myself leave you long enough to do it. I wrote it all last night, here in bed while you were sleeping next to me. Don't read it until you've arrived in the Andorian galaxy, okay?"   
  
"Okay," Sulu says. He's still kneeling on the floor, his face pressed to Chekov's, and he's waiting for something, some signal, more tears, a moment that feels like closure. Chekov lets out a choppy sigh and kisses Sulu again, his lips shaking.   
  
"Just go now," he whispers. "Go, Hikaru. Think of me waiting here in your bed. I'll be here when you get back, just like this, if you want."   
  
"Hell no, I want you in the transport room when I get back. Dressed, preferably."   
  
"Okay, then I will be there. Dressed. Hikaru, don't forget that notebook, it's important."   
  
"I won't forget it. Jesus, I just can't --" He takes Chekov's face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. "I can't," he says, leaving it at that.   
  
"Yes, you can. Go on, Hikaru. The sooner you leave, the sooner it'll be over."   
  
"God, if I could at least talk to you while I'm gone --"   
  
"Shh-shh, Hikaru, no, don't do that now. It will be okay, you'll see, just don't think about it too much right now."   
  
Sulu takes a deep breath, then another, his forehead still pressed to Chekov's. Chekov is stroking Sulu's hair with one hand, the other still tucked under his chin. His eyes are wet, but he seems too tired now to really cry.   
  
"Kiss me goodbye," he says. "Then get that notebook and put it your bag, zip it up, walk to the door, and look back to wave, but only for three seconds, okay, you'll have to count them out, Hikaru, three."   
  
"Then what?" Sulu asks, the words sticking in his throat. He pinches his eyes shut and slides his arm around Chekov, holding onto him.   
  
"Then, then you walk through the door, and keep walking until you are on your shuttle. Later, you can read the notebook. Just think about that, don't think about anything else yet."   
  
"Fuck, you take good care of me." Sulu lifts his face and pushes out a laugh, wiping at his eyes. "What am I going to do without you leading me around by the balls?"   
  
"I guess you will have to be led around by something less noble. Now go, Hikaru, do what I told you to."   
  
He does, nodding, grateful to have a course of action, to not have to think until he's finished doing what Chekov has asked him to. His hand slides from Chekov's shoulders and he goes to the desk, breathing hard through his nose, fighting down a wave of nausea. He picks up the notebook and puts it in his bag, then zips the bag shut and stands on shaking legs, going to the door. He turns back to wave.   
  
Chekov is still lying on his side, the blankets pulled up under his chin now, tucked around him tightly. He looks so small; Sulu wants to run back and shelter him, as if there's a storm coming, something that will hurt him. He counts. On three, Chekov slips a hand from beneath the blankets to wave back. He must have been counting, too.   
  
Sulu turns and opens the door. Down the hall, seeing nothing, he keeps his head clear of everything but the thought of the notebook in his bag. Kirk is waiting at the bay where the shuttle is docked. He gives Sulu a heartfelt speech about how much he'll be missed. Sulu nods, feeling stiff and impatient to get away, as if once he does he'll actually feel better. He realizes as he boards the shuttle that some part of him expected all of this to end instantly, as if the separation from Chekov was just a test, something he wouldn't actually have to experience. He looks back at the _Enterprise_ as the shuttle pulls away, and imagines the window above the bed in his room, Chekov with his face pressed to it, still in shock, his eyes dry as he watches Sulu disappear in the biggest, blackest thing there is.   
  
*   
  
_Dear Hikaru,  
  
Please excuse my sloppy handwriting but I am in a bit of a hurry here. I want to write 365 things for you before your alarm goes off. I have only six hours or so. I've just gotten tea from the replicator and you are sleeping soundly. Already I'm wasting time by telling you this!!   
  
This is what we will do, Hikaru. I will write my 365 things now. You will write 365 responses while you are gone. Write only one a day! That way each page with a new item will be a surprise and you will have something to look forward to. It will be like having a conversation with each other. I won't read your responses until you get back, but that is okay. I am here on the ship with our friends and your plants and I have plenty to do until then. When you get back maybe if we feel like we've forgotten each other a little I can take the notebook and read it and remember you. It will be like I was there all along!   
  
Right now you are thinking about what a genius I am, aren't you!!   
  
Okay, on the first official day of your mission, which is this day I suppose, read the first thing I wrote (the things are numbered for easy reference). When you have time, write me a response. Pretend that I can read it right away.   
  
Hikaru I love you so much! I am so proud of you doing this big mission. I know you will be great. Please disregard any weeping I did on the morning you left. Everything is going to be okay, I am just sad to have to live without you. But you will be so busy, the time will pass quickly.   
  
I'd better start my list now!  
  
Love, Pavel _  
  
\--   
  
_1\. Okay the first topic is this: what do you think I will do with my free time while you're gone? Don't say anything mean._  
  
\--   
  
_Day One  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
First of all, yes, you are a genius for this idea. You don't even know how much reading your note and your plan cheered me up. I waited until I was on the ship, and I was sitting there grinning down at this notebook like crazy, Paronto was suspicious and inquired, haha, I told him my boyfriend had written me three hundred and sixty five letters, one for every day that I'm gone. He was jealous, I could tell.   
  
I've never called you my boyfriend before. You always felt more like a body part, haha, don't take that the wrong way, you felt like you were instantly a part of me, not something separate that needed a label, you know?   
  
Maybe you're regretting this plan already, considering what a bad writer I am. Well, I'm picturing you sniffling and reading this while I'm lying next to you in bed, back after my year away, watching you read, kissing your neck, holding you close. It'll probably take you about a month to read through all my responses, 'cause I'll keep interrupting you, taking your clothes off and what have you.   
  
We've arrived at our base now, it's pretty simple but we've got everything we need, a replicator, beds, we even have our own rooms. I can't really write about the mission, considering that someone might find this notebook, etc etc, but I'm sure you don't really want to hear about it, anyway, and when I'm back I can tell you all about it.   
  
What do I think you'll do with your time while I'm gone? Well, I know you'll watch a lot of porn, haha, and play a lot of that time travel video game you're addicted to, and I'm sure you'll take really good care of my plants, right?? Maybe sometimes you'll even go to the big greenhouse and walk around and think of me. I bet you'll talk to Uhura in Russian a lot. You'll hang out with Scotty and fight about politics. Kirk will ask you if you're okay every five seconds. YOU OK CHECKERS?? ha, I can hear it now. After a few weeks he'll worry about you less. That's how Kirk is, Pavel. He cares about so many people and worries about so many things, but he's the perfect guy to spread himself so thin, he likes bouncing around from concern to concern, it keeps him from feeling pinned down. So don't be like, taken in by him while you're feeling vulnerable.   
  
JESUS I really am writing this like you're going to read it while I'm still gone, haha, maybe I won't even let you read this one. Anyway, also, you will likely amass some hilarious/disturbing Kirk/McCoy evidence that you'll really want to tell me about, but you'll have to tell Uhura instead, and don't forget to tell me when I'm back! And you'll run a lot more than usual, when I get back you will be this like streamlined perfection and I will want to swallow you whole.   
  
Alright, I'd better save some material for my next 364 letters. Thank you so much for doing this for me, Pavel. You really do take such good care of me, even when you can't be with me.   
  
I love you more than ANYTHING, and when you read this part you'd better lean over and kiss me for awhile.  
  
~Hikaru_   
  
\--   
  
_2\. You made some needless warning about Jim in your first letter, didn't you Hikaru?? DISCUSS._  
  
\--   
  
_Day Two  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
Ha, that gave me goosebumps. Well, it's no secret that I'm afraid someone is going to steal you from me, and who better than him? It's not that I have a lack of faith in YOU, it's more like, I just can't believe you'd rather be with me? I don't know, ignore my bullshit. You've gotten good at doing that, really, you're kind of a saint.   
  
Could you sleep last night? I couldn't. I had nightmares, I don't remember them, just that they were bad. I was cold, and then I panicked at the thought that you were cold, too, and that I couldn't do anything about it.   
  
But God I love the thought that you are sleeping in my bed, with my pillow and my sheets and maybe this is gross but I hope you'll leave those sheets on for a little while, the ones that smell like sex. What is that smell exactly? Sweat, come? It's more than that, because jerking off doesn't have the same effect. It's like this outside thing that enters the room and lingers, at least it's that way with me and you.   
  
This place is so sterile and gray. Sometimes it makes me dizzy, and I have to pull out that little curl that I took from you. You know you have like five distinct colors in your hair? I swear one of them is almost gray, but it's a different kind of gray, not like the walls of this place.   
  
Okay, now I sound like an idiot. Signing off for now. Good night. I love you. God, I have to believe that you heard me say that when I wrote it, that the hair on the back of your neck stood up or something.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_7\. I think in every seventh entry I will make you tell me a fantasy you had about me during the week, okay??_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Seven  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
I wish I could vent to you about this mission and Paronto – I guess I'll be able to when I get back. Well, the shit about Paronto isn't sensitive Federation information so I can at least tell you that now – he's the most annoying fucking backseat driver I've ever met, I've had to outright ignore 'orders' that he barks at me while I'm flying twice already just so that we won't die. Note how he doesn't punish me for this because the big dumb asshole realizes that I was right after we, you know, SURVIVE.   
  
Anyway, fuck that because I'd much rather write about my fantasies about you. I don't know which one to pick, every other thought I have is about what will happen when I see you again. The other night I had a pretty good one about fucking you in the lift on the ship. I have this thing about you pressed to the wall with your legs spread out around me while I pump you onto my cock, heh, but as you'll recall we tried that once and I hurt my back. I'm such an old man, I don't know how I'll keep up with you when I'm thirty and you're twenty-six. When I'm eighty and you're seventy-six! That's my real fantasy, Pavel, that I'll still have you then.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_31\. Now you have been there for a whole month! Do you think your plants are still alive? Just joking! They will be!_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Thirty-One  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
I just woke up from the most horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I turned to the next page in the notebook first thing in the morning like I usually do and there was nothing written there, then ALL the pages in the notebook were blank. I don't think I've ever felt so panicked in a dream, it was like I'd just found out you'd died or something. Now I'm tempted to look through the notebook to make sure there are actually 365 messages from you, but I won't. Damn, though.   
  
As long as YOU are alive and waiting for me when I get back, I don't really care what happens to the plants. I mean, admittedly, it would be NICE if they were alive ...  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_62\. Hikaru what if we had never met? What if that guy hadn't had lungworm? You know? What then????_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Sixty-Two  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
I think we would have met somehow, even if not on the ship. Eventually, during our careers, we would have come across each other. Somebody else would have deflowered you, maybe, and I would be all bitter and lonely and friendless, but then you would smile at me and just open me right up. And we would start sending each other PADD messages and maybe meeting for drinks after shifts, and I would fall for you just as hard as I did when you were my navigator, when you snuck your way into my bed.   
  
Is snuck a word?  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_115\. Remember when we first listened to music together and you made fun of me for all my techno remixes of video game music and I made fun of you for your old fashioned songs?  
  
I will tell you something that I know will be true on day 115 when you are gone away from me: I lie in your bed with the headphones plugged into my PADD and listen to old fashioned songs and think about you. That is mostly what I am doing these days. _  
  
\--   
  
_Day One Hundred and Fifteen  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
Work was shit today. I won't even get into it. Paronto and I got in a big fight. It was such a comfort to think about you listening to music in my bed all day – have I mentioned my whole 'process' for composing these responses? I read your message first thing in the morning, and usually I think about my response all day, and that way I can look forward to writing to you at night, and when I go to sleep I can look forward to waking up to a new message from you.   
  
Ha, I just started crying when I wrote that?? Weird. I guess I realize how sad it is now that I see it in writing. But it's really the best part of my day.   
  
Anyway, music. I remember that night, and just wanting to pinch your cheeks after hearing your adorably awful favorite songs, haha. Then I was all indignant when you didn't recognize any of my favorites. Are you really listening to them? I listen to music at night when I can't sleep, on my headphones, and I look at the pictures I took of you before I left. My favorite is that one of you when you'd just woken up and your eyes are all puffy and you look irritable and your nose is scrunched up a little. I feel like I'm lying right next to you when I look at it, or I try to feel that way, anyway.   
  
I can't believe I forgot to send you those pictures of me that you took on the night before I left, but they weren't too great, anyway, I just wish you had this one of us together, the one where you look like a kicked puppy and I look high. I think the only picture you have of the two of us is that one that Kirk took where I'm passed out on your shoulder at that bar in Trexa. I love that one, too, and I look at it all the time. I'm out totally out of it, and you're looking at the camera with this expression of like, protection/challenge, haha, like you're just daring Kirk to fuck with me, your arms are crossed over your chest and you seem kind of proud of yourself, like you're watching out for me. Now I'm just rambling.   
  
I keep listening to this song called 'Left Bank' that makes me think of you – 'without you, I'm getting lost.' etc etc. I'll let you listen to it when I get back, but of course, if you've hacked into my music on the network you might be listening to it already, thinking about me. I like that line, 'I can't hold the sun.' That's how I feel about space, you know, it's so important to me to be able to do what we do, to be here in the last frontier which to me is like the Platonic ideal of reality in a way, but yeah, I'm still this little needy animal who can't hold the sun. I can experience all this incredible shit, but it just weighs on me and feels too clinical when I don't have you to hold in my arms at the end of the day. So I'm also listening to Nick Drake, haha, you know, that song 'Northern Sky,' and thinking about getting back to you someday. In two hundred and fifty days, but who's counting?  
  
~Hikaru_  
  
\--   
  
_174\. I've always liked this number. I don't know why. I'm starting to feel a little delirious, Hikaru. Maybe I should have another cup of tea. Here is your subject for the day: what is your favorite body of water on Earth?_  
  
\--   
  
_Day One Hundred and Seventy-Four  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
What is my favorite body of water on Earth? Ha, you're such a nerd, but this is an appropriate question, actually, because I've been thinking about Earth a lot lately, feeling really homesick. On top of my homesickness for you it's kind of wearing on me.   
  
I bet you're expecting me to say the Pacific Ocean, aren't you? It's actually the Atlantic, because we used to vacation on that coast, all of my dad's family lived in Boston and D.C. so we would go over there for this yearly family reunion thing at the beach, usually to this resort town in Maryland called 'Ocean Pines,' it was this really cheesy place, but as a kid I loved it so much, I used to sneak onto the protected dunes and pretend I was charting an unexplored planet, they just seemed to go on forever and I loved being alone, away from the noise of my cousins. And the ocean itself, there was something about the Atlantic that seemed more ancient or sincere than the Pacific, haha, I mean I hate trying to personify inanimate things, but the Atlantic made me sad in this bittersweet way that also made me feel alive, whereas the Pacific just always seemed to be right there on the surface, just an ocean.   
  
God now I wish I could ask you what yours is! Remind me to do that as you're reading this, when I'm back.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_175\. Okay, I have tea now. And my favorite by the way is the Igauzu Falls in Argentina. You were thinking I would say something in Russia, were you not?? But yes I went on vacation with my parents when I was eight years old and I was afraid of the waterfall because of the noise but my father made me walk into the mist and I was holding his hand so tight (my mother stayed behind because she did not want to ruin her hair) and my heart was pounding but I guess I knew nothing would really happen to me because my father was there. And then he smiled at me and told me I was brave and that he was proud of me. So that is why it's my favorite body of water. Now tell me something about your father in return!_  
  
\--   
  
_Day One Hundred and Seventy-Five  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
Thanks for telling me that story, God, this really is like having a conversation with you. You're so smart, and so thoughtful, I wish I had thought of this, too, and left one of these behind for you. You should have told me about your plan so that I could have! Oh well, I did like that this was a surprise.   
  
Something about my father, well. You know he was a professor at Berkeley, he was a pretty big deal in the psychology department. He had a few patients in addition to teaching and he saw them at the house, I always hated that as a kid, those crazy people coming into my house, and then he would be closed up in his office with them for hours and me and my sisters had to keep quiet and sometimes we would hear the crazies weeping in there, which really freaked me out and made me worried for my dad. I know I shouldn't call them 'the crazies,' but I think I intentionally became insensitive as a response to my father's profession, we used to fight a lot and he told me that I couldn't willfully make myself a philistine just because I wished that I was one. And I was like, uh, yes I can, but then I really liked school and science, I just wanted to study anything but people.   
  
Wow, I don't think I've ever told you any of this before? It seems weird now. What the hell do we talk about all the time -- work, warp theory, video games? I'm not going to know what to do first when I get back to you -- talk nonstop, fuck until we both pass out, or just like, hide under a pile of blankets and cry all over you with relief.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_200\. Two hundred entries already! But it is almost four o'clock in the morning and I only have a few hours to finish, plus I am very tired, so the entries may get a little shorter from here on out. I will try not to make them too short.  
  
I wonder what I am like after two hundred days without you? It just makes me feel so tired and bored to think of it, all that time. Do you think I'm different than I was on the first day without you? _  
  
\--   
  
_Day Two Hundred  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
Part of me didn't think I'd survive to day two hundred. But I think I've finally settled in to a kind of resignation, I'm not fighting the things that bother me anymore. Sometimes though I just get so frustrated by the fact that you're not here that I'll break down into these angry tears and kind of attack the bedsheets. Hmm. So maybe I'm not that settled, really.   
  
Last night I beat Paronto at chess. He's been looking at me kind of weird; I think the isolation is getting to him, too. Pretty soon the preparation stage of the mission will end and the really difficult part will begin for him. I'm happy just to be flying, but it could get tricky for me, too. God, I wish you were here and I could crawl into bed with you at the end of these fucking work days and just tell you everything and hear you say that it will be okay.   
  
I hope you're not different, but you probably are. Guiltily, I hope you are a little sadder and quieter. That sounds mean, but if you're happy without me what will I do?  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_239\. Hikaru I am so TIRED. But I will finish this for you. Tell me when you were most tired in your life._  
  
\--   
  
_Day Two Hundred and Thirty-Nine  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
It's so strange to read these notes and realize that you wrote them all in a hurry on the same night. I have this illusion I guess that they appear anew every day in the notebook, like you are sending them one at a time from the Enterprise.   
  
I think I was more tired than I'd ever been when Kirk and I got back from that detail on Ubuncha, and actually I think that was the longest I'd been away from you since we started sleeping together, five days? Which at the time felt like the purest misery I'd known, ha. I remember you took care of me, of course, you ran a bath for me and washed my back, I remember I more or less fell asleep sitting up in the tub. But I still had to have you, when you put me in my bed and climbed in next to me, and in a way that was some of the best sex we've ever had, you know? It was so slow and sleepy and I felt like I would be allowed to just live inside you from then on. I'm getting hard thinking about it, but also kind of weepy, heh.   
  
Okay, uh, I'm gonna go beat off now, haha, thinking about the way you moaned so, so softly that time, like you didn't want to wake me.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_287\. Lemons.  
  
(I am running out of random English words) _  
  
\--   
  
_Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Seven  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
Lemons, really? Two days ago it was pretzels, are you hungry or something? Okay, what can I tell you about lemons, hmm. Well, when I was in high school my sister read a book about a man who fell in love with a lemon. That was the whole book, him being in love with the lemon. I don't think she finished it.   
  
That's all I got. Today was kind of rough, I've got a big cut on my face and will probably have a scar. There are no Dr. McCoys here and I had to treat it myself. Hopefully you won't think I'm too ugly when I get back.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_300\. I've made it this far but it's already five o'clock! Tell me a really good fantasy about me as a reward for getting this far, okay??_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Three Hundred  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
God, I feel like a husk. You know? Why do I hope that you do, too? I have to admit that I hope you are so miserable right now, Pavel, at least as miserable as I am. Even my fingers don't feel right. If that makes sense?   
  
Maybe I'm going a little crazy. Okay, a fantasy about you. Good idea. I keep fantasizing about being with you on Earth, in some really untouched, quiet place, if there are any of those left anywhere. Maybe like Montana in the summer, the two of us in some empty, sunlit field, the sky going on forever. Okay, this is lame and uncreative, sorry. But I want to be inside you while I can feel the sun on my back, and where the light shows all five different colors in your hair, and I want to watch your cheeks go a little pink from the sun, and the freckles darken on your shoulders. And at night I want there to be a cold wind, and we'll have a room in a ski lodge or whatever the hell they have up there – a ranch? We'll have a big fireplace right there in our room, and we'll put on sweaters and eat steak or something on a porch that looks out on the mountains and there will be some amazing sunset and we'll have a few beers while we watch it. Then I'll shut out the cold and close the curtains and pull all of your clothes off, stretch you out on the floor by that fireplace and lick you everywhere, and you'll be shivering, needing to be warmer than that, so I'll take my clothes off and fill you up, God Pavel just the thought of sliding into you until I can't get any deeper, you've got no idea how bad I ache for the way you squeeze around me in those little pulses when you're still getting comfortable, when your body is remembering how to take me in.   
  
Okay there was a pause there for an actual jerk off, but I'm back. It was a good one, but damn when I come down from an orgasm, when the ghost of you disappears and I'm alone in this room again, well, I shouldn't dwell on it. Only sixty-five more days until I get to see you! And I've got a three week leave afterward, and I know you've got time saved up, so we will really go to this lodge or ranch or whatever in Montana (or some Montana equivalent, anyway), and after I've had you on the floor by the fireplace I'll carry you to the bed and tuck the blankets around us, and I will sleep better than I ever have in my life, in this ridiculously massive bed, you in my arms, all sticky with sweat, smelling like sex, sighing in that sweet way you do after you've had me, after I've had you.   
  
I hope I dream all of this when I sleep tonight – the problem with my good dreams is that even when I'm asleep I know they're not real.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_328\. My hand hurts. Tell me what you'll do for me to make this up to me when you are back, please_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Three Hundred and Twenty-Eight  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
I'm sorry your hand hurt while you wrote this – hopefully it's better now, three hundred and twenty-eight days later, haha. If it's any consolation, my eyes are burning – I haven't slept in three days. It's a long story, having to do with the mission. I almost said, 'but we're okay, don't worry,' as if you won't know that by the time you read this, when you're lying in my arms. Ugh, God, I'm so simple, ha, that's all I think about without this like, Herculean effort: holding you. I thought that it would feel like a far away thing that I could barely remember, I worried that it would lose any sense of reality after all this time, but it's not that way at all. I know exactly where you should fit against me every time I get into bed, and how your hair would smell, and the way you would reach behind you to paw at me, too tired to do anything more.   
  
When I get back (I almost wrote 'when you get back,' as if it's you who's gone away), what will I do to make it up to you, this thing that you've done that has saved me, this way that you invented of talking to me without a network, this time travel thing you gave me? I'll tell you every minute that I love you, you'll get sick of hearing it and give me tense little smiles, wanting me to stop, but I won't be able to. I'll rub your back, oh God Pavel your back must be so sore, mine is a fucking disaster, it's more knots than muscle. But I can get some kind of medical treatment from McCoy, then I can work on making yours feel better. And I'll do all the things you like in bed, I'll talk dirty and sound like an idiot, I'll lick my come out of you when you're raw and wide open, I'll even try sixty-nine again, on the bottom even, just try not to gag me this time, haha.   
  
I'll take you to some gorgeous place on my shore leave and if they use money there I'll pay for all your drinks. I'll bring you medicine if you have a hangover. I'll wash your hair for you in the shower.   
  
Ahh God Pavel, here's the short version: I will do anything you ask for the rest of my life.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_360\. only 5 more! Rejoice! Subject: desk chair_  
  
\--   
  
_Day Three Hundred and Sixty  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
You were just looking around the room and saw my desk chair sitting there, didn't you? Poor Pavel, I can't believe how hard you worked on this. I hope you slept for hours and hours in my bed after I left.   
  
These last days are going to be busy, and they're going to drag by, but I've also started to get nervous about seeing you again. It will be awkward at first, I guess, just because we've both built it up so much in our minds, it couldn't possibly live up to our imaginings, right? But that's okay, we'll get past it. At least I hope so. I've been thinking about how for me you still seem so real, so present, because of this notebook, but all you have is some songs and a few old pictures of me, no way to have fake conversations, and maybe for you this whole experience has been very different?   
  
Heh, I'm really worried, actually.  
  
~Hikaru _  
  
\--   
  
_365\. THE LAST ONE! Hikaru you are coming home tomorrow! My eyes are wet just thinking about it! I will request to have a whole week off to coincide with your return, maybe longer if you'd like! I've been saving up my leave time, of course.  
  
Okay: I LOVE YOU and I will see you soon. I'm going to sleep now, your alarm will go off in seven minutes. _  
  
\--   
  
_Day Three Hundred and Sixty-Five  
  
Dear Pavel,   
  
I wish there was some way to tell you that we'll be here for another week. I'm sure Kirk will let you know, or at least I hope he will. Everything is fine, there's just some loose ends to wrap up. I'm so depressed at the thought of waking up tomorrow and not having a new message from you, but I'll survive. I don't think I'll ever know how to thank you properly for this notebook, or convey how much it's meant to me. I just hope you get some kind of enjoyment out of reading my inane responses to your prompts, and I hope that it helps you remember me, as you said.   
  
I can't believe I'll see you in a week. It still seems so far away, and I'm still nervous. I guess this is the last letter I'll write to you – I wouldn't feel right doing it without the prompts. Plus, I've already said everything there is to say.   
  
I love you and I'll be with you soon,  
  
~Hikaru _


	3. Chapter 3

  
Sulu's arrival time on the _Enterprise_ is classified, so when he beams back there is no one in the dark transport room except Kirk, who is smiling and leaning against the wall. Sulu's legs are shaking as he walks toward him, and he's not sure if he's disappointed or relieved that Chekov isn't here to meet him. He reaches out to shake Kirk's hand and Kirk grabs him, pulling him in for a hug.   
  
"We really missed you around here," he says. "Glad to have you back."   
  
"Glad to be back, sir. God – it's a little strange, feels like a dream."   
  
"I'll bet! Anyway, I wanted to meet you here to congratulate you on a successful mission. Paronto beamed back to the _North Star_ , I guess?"   
  
"Yeah, he's there. And thank you."   
  
"Thank you for rising to the occasion, for doing this. You really represented the _Enterprise_ admirably, and I know this was a sacrifice for you." Kirk smiles. "Little Chekov has been living in your room."   
  
"He – oh, yeah, well, I told him he could."   
  
"Poor guy. He was like a zombie for weeks after you left, I had to give him an earful on the bridge one day when he wasn't paying attention, then I had Bones put him on mental health leave for two days. He was good to go after that, but he's been lonely without you, I think."   
  
"Oh." Sulu doesn't want to talk about this with Kirk. His stomach was upset on the trip to the transport station, and it's still rollicking with nerves. "Is he on shift right now?"   
  
"No, he just went off shift a few hours ago." Kirk slaps Sulu's back. "Go get him."   
  
Sulu gives him an annoyed look, and Kirk laughs, walking off toward the bridge as Sulu heads for his room. He can't believe how surreal everything here seems; even the water fountains in the hallway are like strange artifacts from another time. His heart is slamming against his ribcage by the time he reaches the door to his room. He hopes he won't startle Chekov, walking in suddenly like this. He forgot to ask Kirk if Chekov knew he would be coming back sometime today, and if he knows the reason for the delay in Sulu's return, which was nothing too dramatic.   
  
He opens the door and finds his room dark and empty, the lights at fifteen percent. A flare of panic shoots down his chest, as if maybe Chekov has gone to the Andorian galaxy to find him, but of course he hasn't. Sulu circles around the room, trying to combat a dizzy, disoriented feeling as he takes in all of his old familiar things: his plants, which have miraculously survived under Chekov's care, his books and photographs, everything a little disorderly, because Chekov isn't obsessed with keeping things neat the way Sulu is. One of his Academy sweatshirts is hanging over the back of his desk chair, and he picks it up and breathes deeply, wanting to find the smell of Chekov's skin on it, but maybe he's forgotten what that is, because he can't tell if Chekov has worn this recently or not.   
  
Sulu pulls his clothes off, waiting for the door to be flung open, for Chekov to come running inside, but he's been back for twenty minutes and he hasn't heard a single footstep down the hall. He wonders if he's dreaming as he goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, making the water very hot. All he had on the base for the past year was a sonic shower, and he's missed this one so much.   
  
Being under the water calms him down a little, but he still feels unsettled. The past year already feels remote, like something he invented, and all that came before it is like another person's enviable history. He touches the scar on his cheek, which brings him back to reality. He's spent so much time worrying about how Chekov will recoil at the sight, and he's almost glad Chekov isn't around. His ache to see him again has turned into a kind of dread, because he'll never live up to the thing Chekov has been waiting for all this time, if he's even really been waiting. Crazily, Sulu feels like the Chekov who exists in the words in the notebook is his, always his, and the one who exists here on the _Enterprise_ , in real life, is some stranger who can't be counted on.   
  
He hears the door open and shut out in the bedroom and goes tense, his hands at his sides; he hasn't even touched the bar of soap yet. Frantically, he scrolls through the millions of scenarios he imagined for their reunion, but none of them involve Chekov walking in on him while he showers.   
  
"Hello?" Chekov calls. The sound of his voice makes Sulu smile and then laugh.   
  
"In here," he calls. "It's me."   
  
"Hikaru?"   
  
Sulu hears something hit the floor out in the bedroom, and then Chekov is slamming into the bathroom, yanking the shower door open to boggle at Sulu as if he's a ghost. His hair is very short, his curls gone, and he's wearing shorts and a t-shirt, stinking of sweat from a run.   
  
"Hey, I just, I know I'm a few days late, did Kirk tell you --"   
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov says in something like a sob, stepping into the shower and throwing his arms around Sulu, still wearing his clothes, even his running shoes. Sulu laughs with nervous relief and pulls Chekov against him, reaching behind him to close the shower door. Chekov feels the same in his arms, or maybe a little bigger, stronger? Sulu moans happily and buries his face against Chekov's wet neck.   
  
"I was starting to think you would never really come back," Chekov says, crying in sharp little jags, his body jerking with them. "Kirk kept telling me everything was fine, but you were not here and I started to think he was only trying to protect me from the truth until they found your body and knew for sure or something --"   
  
"Everything's alright, I'm alright," Sulu says, remembering the scar on his face. He wonders if Chekov noticed it; he must have. Sulu squeezes him tighter, rubbing his back. "What happened to your hair?"   
  
"What – oh, I lost a bet, I had to shave it. Oh, Hikaru, Hikaru, I can't believe you're really here."   
  
"I know, I – Pavel, that notebook, you don't even know how much I needed that, how much it meant to me, how much I wished that I could have given you something like that – "   
  
"The notebook, oh God." Chekov laughs, and Sulu realizes that he's rocking Chekov a little, like they're slow dancing under the water, and he doesn't stop. "Hikaru, Hikaru," Chekov says, as if he's lost all of his other words, his lips moving against Sulu's neck. His accent has mellowed a bit since Sulu's been gone.   
  
"Do you want to take your clothes off?" Sulu asks, and they both laugh nervously. Chekov leans back and finally looks at Sulu then, the scar on Sulu's cheek throbbing with a phantom pain as Chekov takes it in. He reaches up to stroke his thumb across it.   
  
"Something happened?" he asks. He doesn't look disgusted the way Sulu feared he would, only wounded, as if someone has done this to him, not to Sulu.   
  
"It's a long story," Sulu says. He reaches down and pulls Chekov's wet shirt over his head. "I know it looks awful, maybe McCoy can fix it."   
  
"It makes you look tough," Chekov says. He pushes down his shorts, and Sulu laughs when he sees that Chekov isn't wearing underwear; he never does when he runs. It makes Sulu's eyes burn, remembering that he knows things like this, but Chekov still feels a bit like someone he used to know, not the same person who wrote all of those things in the notebook.   
  
"That notebook, really," Sulu says as Chekov dumps his wet clothes, shoes and socks outside on the bathroom floor and shuts the shower door again. "It saved my life every day. No joke."   
  
"I'm glad you liked it," Chekov says, and they smile at each other, awkwardness descending. Sulu wants very badly to look down at Chekov's naked body, to drink him in. He's not hard, not even interested in getting hard, not yet. He just wants to look, and feels like it's not allowed.   
  
"I missed you so much," Sulu says, an obvious, ridiculous statement, but he wants to fill the silence. Chekov grins and falls onto him again, hugging him tightly. Sulu lets out his breath, feeling a little seasick. He braces himself on Chekov, which is still effortless.   
  
"Mmm, I want to do nothing but lie in bed with you for weeks," Chekov says. He's stroking the back of Sulu's neck and rolling the ends of his hair between his fingers, feeling him like an alien who has just encountered his first humanoid: curiously, searching.   
  
"We can do that," Sulu says, and Chekov laughs. The feeling of his skinny chest shaking against Sulu's with laughter is one of the million things he missed, and it's enough to bring him halfway back to life.   
  
"I have so much to tell you," Chekov says. "I kept a journal so that I would remember everything."   
  
"Oh, thank God. I've got my notebook, all my responses, you can read them if you want."   
  
"Of course I want to! That's all we'll do tomorrow, yes, lie together and read? Or maybe it will take more than one day, because I will interrupt your reading a thousand times to remark on things – oh, Hikaru!" He starts sobbing hard then, taking Sulu off guard. "Hikaru, oh, I love you, I love you, you've got no idea how much."   
  
"Yes, I do. I know because of what you did for me, those 365 things –"   
  
"It was nothing, I felt so guilty, some of them were just words."   
  
"I liked those ones! Well, I liked the longest ones best, but the words were funny. Like 'lemons,' I laughed out loud at that one."   
  
"Oh, God! Did you actually write a response to 'lemons?'"   
  
"Yes, but it wasn't a very good one."   
  
Chekov laughs, his head lolling on Sulu's shoulder as if he's drunk. Sulu can feel himself beginning to thaw, his grin aching against his cheeks, which have forgotten what this feels like, smiling so hard it hurts. He's still rocking Chekov in his arms, and he takes his hand and begins to dance him around properly, making Chekov laugh harder, his eyes still red with tears when he tips his head back to beam up at Sulu.   
  
"You make me so happy," he says, barely getting the words out. "Please don't ever go away again."   
  
"I won't," Sulu says, though of course it's not up to him. "I love you, God, Pavel, I love you."   
  
"I think finding you like this in my shower – your shower! – will always be the happiest moment of my life, truly."   
  
"That will only be true until we hit the bed," Sulu says, his cock beginning to reawaken a bit, rubbing against Chekov's thigh. Chekov laughs and leans up to kiss him, and only then does Sulu realize that they haven't kissed yet, that this is the first one in over a year. Chekov tastes like a blank canvas, no mint or sugar or coffee or tea on his tongue, just him, the way Sulu remembers, just the warm, familiar taste of his mouth.   
  
"Let me wash you up," Sulu says, and Chekov nods drowsily, his eyelids halfway lowered. Sulu is still swaying as if they're on the dance floor at prom. Chekov is still letting himself be swayed. Sulu releases him and reaches for the soap, doing a piss poor job of cleaning him up, too distracted by Chekov kissing his neck, his face, his lips. He's fully hard by the time they finally turn the shower off and stumble out, still kissing each other as they make their way toward the bed.   
  
"Okay, just, just fuck me and then we can talk," Chekov says breathlessly, falling onto the mattress with a bounce that makes Sulu ache for him, even though he's finally here, he finally has him back.   
  
"Look," Chekov says as Sulu slides down onto him. Chekov gropes around on the shelf beside his bed while Sulu licks him from his collarbone to his chin. "Look, look, I had this lube all ready, waiting for you, I had everything all ready, oh God the last week has been a long one, Hikaru."   
  
"I know. Are – are you sure you want to –"   
  
"Hikaru, I'm sure, don't ask me that, I can't even think straight yet but I know this is what I want."   
  
"Okay, okay, but I won't last, oh _fuck_ , Pavel, you're gonna be so goddamn tight."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I will." Chekov grins. "See, see, you know I waited for you, you knew that I would."   
  
"I – yeah, I knew."   
  
"You knew." Chekov arches up against Sulu as if this is ecstasy, knowing that Sulu didn't really think he wouldn't wait. "Now, God, please, fucking get inside me, Sulu."   
  
It doesn't last, of course it doesn't last. But it seems to happen in another dimension, one where it will always live, not like the countless other times, not even like the first time, but on some greater scale, something that will go on even after they're gone, and when Sulu comes inside Chekov he's out of his mind enough to believe that this is how stars are born, that one is exploding into existence somewhere out there.   
  
When they're through they lie together and stare at each other, the awkwardness far away, blasted to nothing by their bodies, which haven't forgotten each other at all. Chekov kisses Sulu's scar and Sulu runs his fingers endlessly through Chekov's short hair.   
  
"I am going to spend the rest of my life with you," Sulu finally says, and Chekov nods.   
  
"Are you hungry?" he asks, wiping at his nose, looking fifteen years old for a moment. "I saved some things for you, special, non-replicated things that I got from planets we visited."   
  
"Oh, God, was it really a _year_?"   
  
"It seems shorter now." Chekov grins. "Like already it doesn't matter at all."   
  
"I don't even know what it seems like. Not like a dream, not like a nightmare. Like a vision, maybe? Like some kind of ghost of Christmas future was trying to show me what my miserable fucking life would be like if I hadn't met you."   
  
"Ghost of Christmas future, Hikaru?" Chekov laughs, and Sulu feels better than he did when Kirk told him he performed admirably, that his sacrifice was appreciated and that he was a credit to the Federation, which did feel pretty good. Making Chekov laugh like this is still his greatest achievement, every time.   
  
"I loved what you wrote about your father and that waterfall," Sulu says, holding Chekov's whole face in his hand, or trying to, anyway, needing to.   
  
"Hmm? Oh, in the notebook. Did I write about that? You know how often I've thought of that last night, the way I prayed you wouldn't wake up so that I could finish? It's my biggest accomplishment so far, I think, finishing that notebook for you."   
  
"It's the best thing anyone's ever done for me."   
  
Chekov smiles and curls against Sulu, closing his eyes. "I can't wait to read what you wrote," he says while Sulu scratches his nails over Chekov's back, making him whine happily and curl in closer.   
  
"Tomorrow, like you said, we'll spend the whole day reading each other's stuff, everything that happened last year."   
  
"Last year! Oh, God, Hikaru, is it finally over?"   
  
"I think so, yeah."   
  
They both smile smugly then, laughing a little, stroking each other pridefully, because they survived, and no one else in the world will appreciate how hard it was.   
  
"Did anyone meet you in the transport room?" Chekov asks, his hand closing around Sulu's side protectively, as if he's frightened by the thought that maybe no one did.   
  
"Yeah, Kirk did. He was really great, telling me he knew I sacrificed something."   
  
"Oh, how embarrassing. He said that because he saw me moping around."   
  
"Fuck, Pavel, I'm glad you moped around."   
  
"I knew you would be. Maybe that's why I did it, thinking, 'Hikaru will be honored by my suffering."   
  
"Bullshit!' Sulu says, laughing and pulling Chekov to him. Chekov laughs, too, slinging his leg around Sulu's side.   
  
"It's true," Chekov says, leaning back to grin at Sulu. "I thought that my suffering meant something, that it connected with yours in some invisible way."   
  
"You're such a good person," Sulu says, and then it hurts, how true he knows that to be, and how it won't keep either of them safe.   
  
Chekov just hums as if he knows this already, his eyes shut as he sinks down to the pillow, Sulu nuzzling his neck, following him there. They lie in silence for awhile, the awkwardness gone and something else filling the room in its place, something solid and peaceful. They stroke each other's sides sleepily, settling into place.   
  
"So," Chekov says. "Lemons."   
  
"Yeah, lemons. I'll spoil you for what I wrote. My sister read a book once about this guy who fell in love with a lemon."   
  
"Oh, I know that book."   
  
"You do not."   
  
"Yes, I do! A man who falls in love with a lemon and it ruins his life, or something, maybe his life was already ruined."   
  
"Anyway, I answered all of your notes, all 365 of them. Did you know that I would? Or did you wonder?"   
  
"No, I knew that you would."   
  
"I felt so bad for you when I read the later notes, how tired you must have been, how your hand must have cramped up."  
  
"It was like a twisted claw by the time I finished! And I'm sure you noticed that my handwriting got worse and worse."   
  
"God, I was glad there was anything on those pages at all. I had this reoccurring dream that I'd wake up and find out that you'd stopped, that I'd gotten to the end and there were no more notes."  
  
"That was why I was so determined to finish! I didn't want you to feel like I'd abandoned you."   
  
Sulu hums happily, Chekov's short hair tickling under his nose. He reaches down and pulls the blankets up over them, then wraps his whole body around Chekov's under the covers, squeezing him between his legs, making Chekov laugh.   
  
"I'm going to have to sit on your lap on the bridge for awhile," Chekov says. "Until my sense of security is restored."  
  
"Fine by me."  
  
"Do you feel that you changed while you were gone, Hikaru? I was so worried that you would."  
  
"No, not really. Or maybe I did -- I'll appreciate you more now. I won't make stupid comments about how Kirk might try to bed you. He -- didn't try, did he?"  
  
"Hikaru! No! See, you truly have not changed. What a relief." Chekov beams up at him. "And while Kirk did not try to bed me, some others did, do you want to hear about them?"  
  
"Not really. Maybe tomorrow."  
  
"Also, I did one thing that maybe you will not like. There is a website where you can do videos of yourself on the network, yes? And I may have jerked off on camera thinking that maybe by chance you were looking at this website and seeing me. But it was anonymous and I did not show my face! I just thought you might recognize my cock."  
  
"Oh, Christ. Well, thanks for the thought, but I didn't recognize your cock in any of the porn I looked at."  
  
"We should have had this plan before you left, _da_?"  
  
"I guess. It would have broken me up not to be able to see your face."  
  
"Hikaru." Chekov smiles and kisses along the line of his jaw. "You're here."  
  
"I am." Sulu sighs and presses the tip of his nose against Chekov's, willing himself to stay awake and just look at him for a few hours, but the trip from the Andorian galaxy to the transport station was long, and taking a hot shower before climbing into bed has always made him sleepy.   
  
"Go to sleep, poor Hikaru," Chekov says, petting him. "You did such a hard job for the Federation, I'm so proud of you. You'll tell me everything tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, of course. Was Raglund one of the guys who tried to bed you?"  
  
"No, and here is a surprise for you: all of the people who tried to bed me were women!"  
  
"Oh, God." Sulu laughs. "That must have been fun for you."  
  
"It was a little fun, actually. I think the men were too afraid to try because they knew you would tear them limb from limb when you returned."  
  
"You really think I've got that kind of reputation?"  
  
"Where I am concerned, yes."  
  
Sulu snorts out a laugh and closes his eyes, sinking under the feeling of Chekov's soothing little strokes, telling himself that it's ridiculous to be afraid to fall asleep.   
  
"Just tell me you'll be here when I wake up," Sulu says, mumbling. "That I'm not dreaming."  
  
"You are not dreaming, Hikaru, and I will be here." He kisses Sulu softly between his eyes, over the bridge of his nose. "I love you," he whispers.  
  
"Love you, too. You know that, don't you? That I love you?"  
  
"Yes, Hikaru, now go to sleep."  
  
Sulu rolls over, prompting Chekov to wrap around him from behind, and Chekov takes his cue instantly, pressing his chest to Sulu's back. Sleep comes like a rip tide, and Sulu is pulled under fast, thrown into a variety of unpleasant dreams: his ship never reaches the transport station, Chekov is gone when he returns to the _Enterprise_ , he finds out Chekov married one of McCoy's nurses while he was away. He wakes up after all of them and hunts for Chekov, finding him and pulling him close every time.  
  
Finally he's able to sleep deeply for a few hours, and he doesn't wake until 09:00. The lights in the room have been turned up just a bit, and Chekov is lying beside him, holding the notebook he gave Sulu open over his face. He's smiling up at the pages, and Sulu scoots over to put his head on Chekov's shoulder while he reads Sulu's responses, closing his eyes again.   
  
"You were so sad," Chekov says softly, tilting his head until he can kiss Sulu's forehead.  
  
"What did you expect?"  
  
"I don't know. I think I knew that you loved me, but maybe not this much."  
  
"Well." Sulu flushes with embarrassment, his hand sliding across Chekov's chest. "Now you know."   
  
"Your secret is out, Hikaru."  
  
"Mmm."   
  
Sulu falls asleep listening to Chekov turn the pages of the notebook. He feels almost protective of it, like Chekov is reading love notes sent to him by someone else, a version of himself that Chekov has left behind in the past. Sulu hasn't quite left the Chekov contained in the notebook in the past yet; he still looks at Chekov's short hair and hears his muted accent and feels a little desperate to have him back the way he was. But his curls will grow back, and his accent will return when he's drinking and when he's being fucked, coming out of hiding. Sulu clutches at him, thinking of that song he was so obsessed with for awhile when he was away: _I can't hold the sun_. He'll settle for any version of Chekov that he can hold in his arms, and the notebook has already begun to lose its importance, except as a symbol of how much this real, warm Chekov loves him.   
  
"Ah, your plants!" Chekov says, squeezing Sulu's shoulder. "Did you see them? There they are, alive!"  
  
"Yes, I saw them, thanks," Sulu says. He's grinning, his eyes still shut.   
  
"Every time one of them dropped a flower I would feel this intense dread, Hikaru, you have no idea."   
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean for them to stress you out so much."  
  
"Well, I had to have something to look after with you gone."   
  
Sulu falls asleep with a smile still stretched across his face, and he finally has the dream he wanted for so long while he was gone, the one about Chekov and a room with a big fireplace. It seems almost cruel that the dream was withheld from him until now, but when he wakes up he's glad that it didn't come until he could take the notebook from Chekov's hands, set it aside and climb onto him, ready to make it all come true.


End file.
